


Kākou

by IreneClaire



Series: Kākou AU [1]
Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: A bit of BAMF Danny, Additional Warnings Apply, Amnesia, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Cutting, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, Hurt Danny "Danno" Williams, M/M, Multiple Personalities, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Original Character(s), Protective Steve, Protective Steve McGarrett, Self-Harm, Slash, Temporary Amnesia, Triggers, kidnapped steve, mcdanno
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-05
Updated: 2017-08-16
Packaged: 2018-11-28 06:41:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 23
Words: 55,648
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11412387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IreneClaire/pseuds/IreneClaire
Summary: "He was taken in by those eyes, recovering neatly even though something seemed to prompt an odd sense of déjà vu. He'd met this man before."Another " Danny amnesia" story. A dangerous secret admirer who covets Steve for himself, attacks Danny in order to remove him from Steve's life.Kākou is defined as The value of inclusiveness - All of us. We are in this together; Learn to speak the language of we.M/M. Established Relationship





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Calacious](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Calacious/gifts).



> I do not own Hawaii Five-0 or any characters. No copyright infringement intended.
> 
> New Note Dated October 2017: I wrote this story well prior to Season 8 and the latest H50 spoiler for what seems to be a similar episode featuring a baddie with a multiple personality disorder. My story here is not meant to be a related spoiler or re-write or "what if", etc. 
> 
> In fact, my story did come first and before any such knowledge. It's a pure coincidence of subject matter as it relates to having a character suffering from a multiple personality disorder -- and that episode (at least from my written perspective here) is (going to be or likely will be) completely unrelated to this work. Come to think of it, maybe they got the idea here - LOL!
> 
> Heck - would we EVER be lucky enough to get an amnesiac Danny with an insane amount of whumpage, angst and extended hurt/comfort? Or, have them truly "go McDanno" on us? *BG* ... NAH ..... LOL!

**H** **5O* H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O**

 

He stood outside in the rain, broken slippah in hand, the other still on his foot. Despite the rain, the sun peeked between the clouds to sear his shoulders through his thin t-shirt. The shower was doing nothing for the humidity at all; except making it worse and it had already been unbearable. Shoulders hunched against a never-ending migraine and a body wracked with pain, he stared through the window of the small diner, watching people order their meals, get served their food … _eat_.

His stomach rumbled and he thought he should walk away. But he stood there, taunting himself, his fingers idly rubbing over the broken end of the slippah, loathe to move. He glanced down at the rough end of the fabric in his hand. He should throw the damaged slippah ... no? No ... _flip-flop_ came to mind. He blinked at it, confused. No matter its name ... it was broken. He should throw it away. Both really if one was ruined. He'd found them anyway. Discarded in the trash, already frayed and old. One was better than none though; and the other should have its mate. So until he could find another pair, he'd make do and keep the two.

"Hey?" The soft query came from off to his right side and he startled, ready to run, head throbbing from a surge of adrenalin.

"I'm not doing anything," he replied with more courage than he felt. Especially when he turned and saw the size of the tall, dark-haired man who'd merely uttered one quizzical word. Weak, tired and hurting, he'd never stand a chance if things got ugly and he backed away automatically, giving himself a semblance of space.

"I didn't say you were," the man answered. He held his hand up, beseechingly before compounding it with softer words. "You look … I was just…," he paused awkwardly. "I was just going to ask you if you were hungry. That's all. My treat … on me."

His stomach growled before he had a chance to verbally reply, completely negating the shake of his head and the dark-haired man smiled, apparently amused. "Why would you do that?" He asked while backing up another step, then two more. "Give me money …. for food."

He didn't trust the situation. He wasn't sure of this man. Especially when he obviously didn't need to be standing in the light downpour, getting wet such as he was. No one did that. No one was that … kind. There was a pause in their short conversation as each decided what to do next. The man's dark hair sparkled with water. His t-shirt was soaked through across his broad shoulders and much of his back. Still, the man's hand was up again, trying to forestall him from leaving. No doubt, the man sensed how jittery he was, certain to flee at the drop of a hat.

"You look hungry and I … _uh_ ," the man paused as if searching for the right thing to say. The right thing which would make him say _yes_. Something which he was desperate to do anyway as two people left the diner, sending an enticing odor of bacon and hamburger wafting through the air. He swallowed hard, his mouth fairly watering while his head pounded in time to the tick of his heart.

"I was just going in to have lunch," the dark haired man explained. "So, I thought … I just want to do something nice for someone today … maybe make a new friend. So what do you say? My treat … you can pay it forward."

He snorted though his nose at the last sentence. _Pay it forward?_ That was quite the joke! Well, he might when he could … maybe at some point. If he _ever_ could. Based on his current set of abysmal circumstances though, that effort would be a long time coming.

"Please. Just say yes," the man suddenly added, his expression was earnest. Perhaps more hopeful than it should have been and yet, as his stomach rumbled again, he found himself relenting until he realized what he looked like.

"I'm wet; I don't have shoes," he murmured in embarrassment, showing the dark haired man the ruined slippah. He looked at his hands covered in dirt and bruises. He looked like he'd been in a brawl and for all he knew, he might have. Regardless of whatever _had_ happened to him, he'd apparently come out on the losing end. Big time.

"Trust me, it's not a problem," the man said, shrugging it off as he gestured towards the diner's front door. "Half the people here come in off the beach … kids; surfers for a quick bite. It's not a problem … really."

He found himself nodding then, still embarrassed. Definitely self-conscious as he tried to pat his hair into place. He used the reflection of the glass door to finger comb the wet blond strands into some kind of order, insisting that he follow in the dark haired man's footsteps. Still ready to leave if it might be a trap or trick of some kind.

It was blessedly cool in the diner and as promised, no one said a word about his clothes or the way he looked. Not a soul even bothered to look his way.

The dark haired man chose a table near the door, allowing him the choice of where to sit and he made the obvious one, still considering his options for escape should the need arise.

"Get whatever you want," the dark hair man said as they each settled down. "I haven't eaten all day myself; I hear the burgers here are the best on the island."

He nodded, unsure of what to say, working hard at just taking the situation at face value. Trying not to drool all over the table as the empty ache in his belly intensified now that he was surrounded by the prospect of really eating.

"Thanks," he said after they placed their orders, glancing up to catch the rich hazel of the man's eyes when they ordered the same thing. He was taken in by those eyes, recovering neatly even though something seemed to prompt an odd sense of déjà vu.

_He'd met this man before._

While part of him was sure of that fact, another screamed at him to be careful. He considered his gut instincts and then the war inside his brain. Slowly, his brain convinced him that his gut was wrong; it was merely hungry. There was no way he knew this man at all.

So, no. This chance meeting meant nothing. He'd only accepted this offer out of desperation for one square meal. This was nothing more than a nice guy doing a nice thing. That's all this was. Nothing more.

"So," the man asked conversationally as he poked his straw though the ice in his drink. "What's your name then?"

He looked away to stare at his fingers. He knew the question would come up and he'd rehearsed the answer. No matter how many times he said it though, it still felt as wrong as it was. The thing was, he didn't know what the right answer should be.

"Charlie," he said, without meeting the dark haired man's eyes.

"Charlie?" The dark haired man breathed out so oddly that he had to glance up again. Their eyes met and this time held. He felt a pang of something inside his chest then. A belief that this man not only knew he was lying … he knew _him_. Suddenly everything felt wrong and he shook his head, starting to slide out of the booth, now sure he'd made an error in judgment.

"I need to go," he started to say. "Thanks, you seem nice ... but ... I shouldn't take advantage ..."

"No! No, please …," the man whispered sharply, interrupting. "You're not taking advantage. Stay!" His eyes were full of emotion as his hand shot out and gripped Charlie's wrist, holding on tightly as he tugged back downwards. "I mean, the food's almost here … Charlie."

Almost reluctantly, the man forced himself to release his wrist, digit by digit. "Please stay and have something to eat. It'll just get thrown out ... if you leave now."

The food arrived on the heels of the dark haired man's pleas - as if proving his point - and though he was on edge and undeniably nervous, he gave in. Or rather, his stomach gave in with another loud grumble of its own growing desperation.

_**~ to be continued ~** _


	2. Chapter 2

**H** **5O* H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O**

 

Steve held his breath as he watched Danny eat, virtually inhaling the food without pausing to chew more than once or twice. He was shaking inside. His hands were fisted and there was a knot the size of Kansas stuck inside his chest. He was completely petrified that he was going to lose Danny in the blink of an eye. Just as he'd lost him nearly eight days earlier at the public playground with Charlie, Danny's son.

 _Charlie_. He unglued his fists, making his fingers relax in order to pick up his own burger before he forced himself to take a bite. Danny was sick. Injured. By just looking at him, Steve knew he was feverish. After touching his wrist though, Steve had felt that sickly dry heat leeching off his skin. He had felt that flash of anxiety which had made him let go. Danny didn't know him. He didn't know ... _anyone_. That was mind boggling all unto itself. But to choose _Charlie's_ name as his own? Steve didn't know what to think about that. Why had Danny picked his son's name? It had to have been derived from his subconscious memory. Some kind of a safety net supplied by pure instinct and Steve found himself taking some unlikely consolation in that belief.

There were so many better questions to ask though. Questions which were tearing at Steve as he continued to covertly examine his abused partner. For one, finding out why the hell this had happened ... and most importantly, who had orchestrated it? When Steve found the person or persons responsible, there would be more than hell to pay. He bristled in anger as Danny stopped eating, wracked by a body-wide shiver, his eyes briefly closing in response to some internal flux of pain.

Steve had to get Danny home. Get him qualified medical care.

When Danny finally recovered enough to catch his breath, Steve took a second bite of his burger. His entire meal was tasteless and he had to swallow hard just to get it past the lump in his throat. The wad got stuck mid-way though and he went for his drink next, eyes tearing as he fought the urge to cough from drinking too much, too quickly. Across from him, Danny looked up, unmoving, his expression unreadable as Steve nearly strangled himself.

"Sorry ... went d-down wrong," he gasped out awkwardly as he gave Danny a watery smile of sorts. Their eyes met for an instant and then Danny looked away, his own food evidently far more interesting. For Steve's part, he tried to continue eating, but he couldn't really take his eyes off Danny though. He glanced to Danny's plate, worried that Danny was nearly done ... he'd leave. Steve couldn't let him leave ... he needed a new plan and quickly.

Steve had lost him after Grace had called them at the playground, needing to be picked up from some event or another. Danny had never made it to her. The Camaro had been forced off the road along the way. Found upside down in that ravine, there'd been no sign of him … or his body. There were no demands. Not a single person or entity claimed responsibility. There was no active case work begging that they be more careful than usual. They had no leads. Nothing. And Steve knew that if Danny was all right, he'd have found his way home.

But he hadn't.

He wasn't all right at all. That evidence was staring back at him in the flesh. But Steve couldn't have dreamed up these current circumstances if he'd tried.

Very slowly certain facts were becoming more apparent to him, even if it were piecemeal. Someone had planned all of this out. _Obviously_ , the accident had been no accident at all ... Danny had been intentionally spirited away ... Steve had been setup to look in all the wrong places. But then ... why was Danny still _alive_? Steve was about to go insane by the sheer volume of inconsistencies!

Now, days later, something _had_ happened. Danny had been spotted. This particular sighting had quite inconceivably been on the Big Island and by local police. It made no sense from the start. How had Danny gotten from Oahu to the Big Island. _Why_? Who was pulling their strings? Who wanted Steve to look in all the wrong places? There had been no threats, no extortion demands. No claims of responsibility.

Nothing.

Steve had doubted that report from the Big Island. He'd scoffed when the call came in regardless of its origin. The Big Island? And Danny had actually run away from valid help? Why the hell would Danny, of all people, have _run_ away from the _police_? The two officers involved had fielded Steve's battery of questions, swearing up and down that they'd seen his 5-0 Detective. They had tried to approach him but he'd panicked. _Panic_? Steve remembered his growing sense of disgust. Danny had run from the very people who would _know_ him - help him - keep him safe? Bring him _home_?

What they had told him just the day before was beyond ludicrous.

Steve sure as hell hadn't believed the sighting nor a single word of that report until that very morning when he'd flown out to the Big Island himself. He'd rented a car to keep his profile low-key, met the police officers in question, pestered them with more questions, and then begun a search pattern of his own.

And within a few short hours, he'd been damned lucky.

Steve certainly hadn't expected to see Danny standing in the parking lot to some nondescript diner. Even rumpled, he knew Danny's lines by rote. The broad shoulders, the cocky stance. None of that could ever have been hidden - or lost. Those things which were inherently Danny's were even firmly ingrained within Steve's psyche.

Within his heart.

He'd approached him so carefully, knowing that something was terribly wrong. Nonetheless when their eyes had met, Steve hadn't expected to find a blank stare. An absolute lack of recognition, nor the depth of distrust in those familiar blue eyes. He'd made things up on the fly then, stunned that this battered, scruffy person standing across from him was really Danny. It was though. Without a doubt and he didn't dare risk losing him.

Wanting to ask what had happened, instead Steve kept his own council. Danny was skittish and suspicious. Ready to part ways in a moment's notice. Now, less than two feet away with only a table separating them, Steve studied him as closely as he dared, tears threatening as he catalogued what lay under days' worth of grime, dried blood and stubble. Happy, angry, baffled all warred inside as he clocked the bruises, abrasions, and fresh scab marring Danny's temple. The worst of the damage disappeared into his hairline where a pinkish tinge matted the dirty strands of blond hair. By the slow blink of Danny's glassy eyes, the injury was a very likely reason for the headache Steve knew he was suffering from. There was something wrong with his left arm, too. Holding the appendage closely to his body, Danny was slightly hunched and barely moving that arm at all.

 _Charlie_. Steve shook his head in bewilderment, biting back a worried sigh. Danny looked sick, acted sick and for all intents, was broken both inside and out.

His clothes weren't even his own. Not even the sorry excuse for footwear. _How the hell had this all happened?_ Completely in the dark, Steve ached for him. For the physical pain which Danny was in - his obvious hunger - and worse yet, Steve ached just to touch him, hold him, and to take him home.

"S'good, right?" Steve managed to say normally enough. He took a deep breath, settling his nerves when Danny glanced up and gave a skittish nod. He smiled reassuringly as he started to ask a particularly loaded question as off-handedly as possible because Danny was almost finished with his meal. Steve needed to keep some kind of positive flow going rather than quite literally handcuffing himself to his partner. Always an option ... but _no_ , Steve shook his head at himself in disgust for even considering it. The last thing Danny needed was more trauma inflicted upon him.

"After we're done eating ... is there _uh_ ... any place you'd like to go? I'd be happy ...," Steve started to speak when a shadow fell across their table and Danny froze instantly.

"Commander? Aren't you Commander McGarrett? I heard you made the Island this morning." He jolted badly as a male voice sounded heartily over his right shoulder, interrupting everything he was so carefully crafting in his mind. Across from him, Danny wasn't moving a muscle, both hands wrapped around his burger mid-way to his mouth. His fear was palpable and Steve reacted protectively. He'd have to apologize later, but now he had to do his best to prevent Danny from bolting.

He stood abruptly, swinging around, positioning himself firmly between his spooked partner and a young police officer whom he'd never met before.

"No, Officer. Don't be ridiculous … you're mistaken," he stated firmly, ignoring the way the younger man's jaw gaped wide in confusion. "No, I'm not."

Sweat broke out on his forehead as he did his best to not bully the young officer away from the table, if not entirely out of the diner. He tried to hurry, cover up quickly and the officer backpedaled in kind, realizing that he'd already made some horrific mistake.

But it was far too late. When Steve turned around, Danny was gone from the table. Including the remains of the burger and small cardboard of french fries. Those were gone, too. The only thing left behind was the one lone, broken slippah on the faux leather seat cushion. It would have been funny if not for the seriousness of the issue at hand. In that hairsbreadth of half a heart beat, Steve thought he'd died a thousand deaths all over again. _Danny was gone._

"Shit, I'm sorry …" the officer tried to speak, but Steve shoved him away. _Hard_. Then he was practically stumbling over his own two feet to get to the door.

"No! _Nonono_! Danny!" He ran into the middle of the parking lot, the rain now ended, heated steam coming up from the wet pavement, frantically looking. Searching for any sign of a blond head, one last shout ending on a desperate sob of real pain because no one was there.

"Danny! Danny … _stop_!"

Injured or not, Danny had pulled off one hell of a vanishing act.

_**~ to be continued ~** _


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not own Hawaii Five-0 or any characters. No copyright infringement intended.
> 
> Notes: not sure when the next chapter will go up ... but this one is earlier than I anticipated posting and also longer than I thought it would be.

 

**H** **5O* H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O**

 

Out of breath and hunched over, he watched the dark haired man from the spit of heavy scrub and greenery on the steep incline above the diner. He'd been to this private spot before behind the diner, after dumpster-diving. He'd investigated the narrow rocky path, finding that it ended at a higher out-cropping, well enough secluded. There, he had cover, privacy and also could see not only the entirety of the parking lot, but a fair amount of the road and the beach beyond. That terrain had become the only thing familiar to him. Within just a couple of days, he'd learned when the chefs changed shift, identified a few morning regulars, a waitress or two, and had sat through short bouts of bad weather. Of all the places he'd been thus far in his short chain of memories, this was by far the safest and the most predictable.

At least until that day.

Crouched down low there now, with the rest of his coveted meal in hand, he watched the man make a few calls on his cell phone before rounding back in a fury on the young police officer.

Charlie frowned. Absolutely confused. There was no way he could hear the words. Only the dark-haired man's mannerisms told him anything at all. He could read both men's postures and expressions even from that distance. His frowned deepened, perplexed, as the young officer took the tongue lashing in stride. It only meant one thing though and his eyes narrowed thoughtfully.

What had the young officer called out inside the diner? He was sure, no he was darned positive, that he'd heard the word: _Commander_.

So, then. He'd been right. This gesture of kindness had been a trap of some kind after all because no way in hell would a cop back down from anyone but a superior in the same line of business. _A Commander._ A title he wasn't sure fit police work, but what did that matter? It was still a title and something that definitely indicated authority. Everything which Charlie had been neatly avoiding without a true recollection as to why.

He settled on his haunches, watching and knowing he was safe enough when this Commander leaned dejectedly against the car he'd arrived in. A nondescript white sedan. Common enough for a plains-clothed cop he assumed. Even for one carrying rank. Waiting to see what might happen next in silence, he finished his hamburger and made short work of the french fries, wishing he'd had more to drink. But beggars as he, couldn't afford to be choosers.

He watched as the police unit eventually left and the dark-haired man stayed behind. A rather confusing choice since he'd assumed more cops would arrive ... not leave. The dark haired man was alone now. Alone. _Wait_. No back-up?

 _'Hardly a smart move,_ ' Charlie thought to himself with a critical eye. ' _Even if the guy has rank ... but especially if the guy is a higher up.'_

As he patiently watched, the man merely stood there for a long long time, doing nothing, as if deciding what to do at all until he finally crossed the busy street and then the narrow promenade to the beach where he went north up the rain-wetted sands.

Charlie scowled at that. Why leave the car? Why choose to walk? Why no back-up? Charlie snorted under his breath, perplexed by all of these mixed signals. Apparently the dark haired man believed that Charlie had gone across the street first. And then, maybe on to the beach. To him, it was a stretch, but he guessed it might be a credible enough assumption ... he supposed.

He considered leaving at that point. It was a perfect window of opportunity. Yet in the end, he stayed precisely where he was, blaming it on not feeling well enough to find a new hiding place. Blaming it on a need to not have to take chances. He was safe right where he was. But hanging around had become something more than all of these excuses combined. Almost unconsciously, he had decided to wait until the dark-haired man returned. More likely, he was curious. Maybe it was just to see what happened next.

He wasn't entirely sure how to define this temptation to just ... _wait_.

The dark haired man had touched him inside the diner. He'd grabbed his wrist when he thought that Charlie might leave before eating. Now, Charlie absently rubbed his fingers over that same spot. That ghost-like after-feeling was still there on his skin. Almost like the after-image from a camera. _Almost_ like an after-shock, he still felt the pressure of the man's tight grip encircling his wrist. Long fingers. _Warm_. A hand which possessed a subtle strength but was gentle ... and underlying that power was a feeling of desperation.

No matter what Charlie might be trying to define it as, the sensation lingered and gave him ... comfort? Charlie wasn't sure and he chuffed an odd sound under his breath. He was reading into things again and only because he was hurting. Not feeling well. He shook his head in disgust, ruing the move as the ache flared again and he saw a flux of white spots before his eyes. The meal had done him good, but he was still sick. Still not feeling well as he shivered in his rain dampened clothing.

Charlie should leave. Nonetheless, he stayed where he was. He waited and watched until he saw the familiar silhouette coming back towards the diner. He startled himself with that realization. Familiar. The dark haired man _was_ familiar. _Why_? He had no answer as to why the man's profile was so familiar to him. Or why, at that realization, he felt that pang inside his chest again because that feeling of déjà vu was stronger than ever.

When he'd said his name, this man had known he was lying … he _knew_ him. It was true. It was true because Charlie now also knew that he had met this man before. They knew each other. It wasn't just a sense of déjà vu at all, they shared a connection. Amazed by that revelation, Charlie murmured a quiet sound to himself. Riveted as he watched the man return. Still on foot, but this time traveling south on the near side of the road, the man stood out like a sore thumb. And as he watched him approach, head hanging low, there was no mistake in that the man was dejected … he looked entirely defeated.

No, that was wrong. He looked absolutely _grief-stricken_.

Charlie watched as the man walked to the white four-door sedan which had been left in the parking lot. He hummed a quizzical sound under his breath as the man hesitated to look around the parking lot. Then went so far as to re-enter the diner before coming out a few minutes later to return to the car. He opened the door only to slouch sadly behind the wheel.

He was looking for him. Still desperate to find him. Grief stricken that he couldn't and Charlie's eyes narrowed in consideration. That coughing jag whilst eating had been a true sign of nerves. Charlie had thought his kind benefactor might choke to death at the time. Now, Charlie managed a soft smile as he recalled the man's watery eyes, that ragged apology. This Commander had been nervous; entirely non-threatening. He felt something then change as he took in the man's next actions, alarmed when he watched the Commander literally punch the steering column not once or twice, but a good three or four times in a row. Charlie winced in sympathy, absolutely baffled by this rise in emotions.

 _Was this a cop? A trap? Or something more?_ Charlie was slowly settling on something _more_ ... despite being a cop, this was someone more akin to a _friend_.

He knew that the Commander had been studying him closely inside the diner. Hell, Charlie had been doing the same damned thing. Covert glances, a look here or there. He'd been drawn to the man's tanned fingers time and again. Lithe, supple, gentle. Yet ... deadly, too. Then, that hint of a tattoo up high on a bicep. Once again, Charlie couldn't escape the facts now that this man truly knew him. They _knew_ each other … and inexplicably, this Commander? He even might miss him. Everything he'd witnessed thus far were the actions of someone very upset. A name teased his brain but slipped away like quick silver. Nothing stayed inside his head for long. Charlie's mind was pretty much a blank slate. He didn't know his name or where he'd come from. He didn't know the why of anything.

Yet, he understood what he was seeing.

Hunkered down low, he stayed there concealed within the deep greenery for a few more minutes before he got painfully to his feet. Limping on his one bare foot, hands fisted tightly, he made his way back down the short washed out trail. He loitered by the dumpster before he crept closer, using a van for cover and was able to see the dark-haired man better inside the car.

His head was bowed low, one hand hid his eyes as if in pain. The other was loosely wrapped around the steering wheel and it was trembling. Charlie blinked. Surprised when a shudder ran through the man's shoulders. If Charlie didn't know better, he might have assumed the man to be … _crying_?

Drawn like a moth to the light, he edged closer to the car, his eyes glued to the shape he could see though the window. He knew that the dark haired man was a cop now. A _Commander_ in fact. Yet Charlie warred with himself to stay the course he'd just begun. _This man knew him._ He said he wanted to help. And so far, all of his actions simply proved that fact.

Before he knew what he really intended to do, he was standing by the driver's side of the car. Trembling and uncertain. Fighting through an internal battle. Still staring at the bowed head, the familiar outline of that strong profile. _So, so close_ and Charlie raised his fist. Dare he do it?

He inhaled sharply, willing himself to stay, to knock on the window. His hand shook and the doubt snuck back in with a vengeance. _What was he doing?_

 _This man knew him._ He'd meant well ... done him no harm. And ... _and he knew him._ Charlie kept returning to that fact. Plus, he couldn't stay in this limbo forever and this was the best chance he had to find out more. He simply had to try.

Resolute, he rapped on the glass sharply even though his heart was inside his throat. The man inside startled at the unexpected sound, his head whipping to the left as Charlie hastily backed up. Stormy gray-blue eyes, glassy with emotion, widened as they met Charlie's fearful ones in stunned disbelief.

"Oh my God. Hey ... _hey. Wait_ ," the man's voice was just audible through the window and Charlie edged backwards even more rapidly as the man fumbled to open the door. "You came back," the dark haired man exclaimed brokenly as he virtually stumbled from the car. Once again, his hands were held up, fingers spread plaintively towards Charlie, begging him to stay. "You came _back_."

Charlie shrugged. His mouth had gone bone-dry and he swallowed thickly while he stared into the man's face. His head was pounding like a timpani drum now. "Y-yeah," he croaked out, trying to understand what he should do next. Wondering if he'd made a mistake with his irrational mental ramblings.

This didn't feel like a trap at all though. It didn't feel wrong. As he looked into the man's eyes, he saw a similar fear to his own, too. One that begged answers but also tried to communicate safety and protection all at the same time. And dammit if Charlie didn't _feel_ safer.

"Yeah," Charlie whispered again as he hugged his bad arm to his chest. "Not sure why," he admitted softly. He shrugged helplessly once more while backing up a few more steps. Still scared but reluctant to walk away. Utterly confused as to why he was drawn so strongly to this person.

"So what. So … I came back."

"I'm glad. You need to trust someone ... I ... I can help," the dark haired man whispered back just as softly. "Trust _me_? Please let me help you. We'll figure this out together."

Charlie backed up another full step instead, gauging the man's intentions and beginning to reprimand himself for his own stupidity. _Figure what out?_ What did this man know and would whatever it was help him … or, hurt him?

The man must have seen the uncertainty come flooding back. He held both his hands up, imploringly as Charlie hesitated.

"Please … _please_ don't leave," the man said. "You came back and that has to mean something … I swear that I just want to help."

Charlie could read the man's rise in desperation as he'd slightly moved away. Afraid that Charlie had changed his mind because he'd said the wrong thing and he'd run away again. But Charlie didn't want to leave even though he couldn't immediately find much sense in this decision. He searched the emptiness inside his brain and felt his anxiety twist his stomach into knots. It was all too much and Charlie winced at that internal ache made worse by the bright sun and stress of the situation. He could scarcely think straight as his migraine beat into the crown of his head.

"Please. Come with me. Let me help you," the man whispered again, but he made no move to grab him. No move to do a thing as Charlie re-weighed his options and argued silently with himself.

Just what the hell was he doing? _Why?_ He'd taken a stupid risk and yet, why leave? Where would he go?

He glanced towards the dumpster, his eyes traveling back up to the small copse where he'd been hiding. He didn't know how he'd gotten to this place. He didn't know why he had no possessions … not even a decent pair of shoes. He was hurting, tired, sick …. and _hungry_. It was no lie at all that he did need help. Maybe that's why he'd waited for the man to come back. A bit of kindness? Was that all it took for him to be so stupid? Maybe. But Charlie didn't quite buy that either; something deep down inside of him was insisting that he _try_ to trust someone.

No. Not just someone. That he trust _this_ person and that all he needed to do was to make that final leap of faith.

Nervously, Charlie looked into the Commander's warm and earnest gaze. There was something so familiar in that handsome face and he paused. He had to trust himself, too. His head thrummed painfully as he shifted on his feet on the hot macadam. One foot bare, one not.

He needed help. He needed to trust … someone. He needed to trust himself. Certain words were on the tip of his tongue, yet all Charlie managed at first was the faintest of nods. Just one before he pushed out a single word, taking a tentative step forward.

"Okay."

"Yeah? Okay?" The dark haired man repeated incredulously, his eyes welling with unshed tears. But this time, tears of joy. In fact, that dour look was suddenly gone. The sadness and grief were replaced by the intensity of a smile so radiant and so very welcoming, that Charlie grinned in return.

_**~ to be continued ~** _


	4. Chapter 4

 

**H** **5O* H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O**

 

Steve gave up on trying to stop himself from looking towards Danny as he drove back to his hotel. It was pointless. He'd searched on foot for him for hours and all he'd done was walk out the anger he held against that young police officer. He'd just about given up. The Big Island was named as such for a damned good reason. He barely knew the island and Danny probably knew it even less. But in his current straits, Danny would have started to learn all of the worst things.

The dark places to hide. The back streets and alleys best used to avoid being found. He'd proven some of that skill already.

Steve looked over that narrow gulf again, soaking in Danny's presence. He fit there, right by Steve's side. He had to stop himself from reaching out, finding that soft spot on Danny's neck at the juncture of his collar bone. He'd have to take it slow for a few days, ease back in to their habits. Eyes half on the road, he glanced up to the scruff of Danny's hair. He'd rarely seen it so unkempt; but that barely hidden wound? He conjured his last view of the Camaro. It's broken hull, upside down. Danny had once been inside that wreck.

Steve visibly shuddered and he reflexively reached out then, his fingertips just brushing along the lines of Danny's arm. The bad arm which seemed to be emanating a sickly heat all of its own. _A flash of broken glass, twisted metal. A door off its hinges and a malodor of burnt rubber that lingered in his nose for hours later._

"Danny. You okay?" He asked, using Danny's obvious discomfort as an excuse, though his own emotions were admittedly all over the map. Steve knew he was now doing an abysmal job of hiding a damned thing. Addled or not, with him or not, Danny was picking up and analyzing everything. Steve knew that his partner could change his mind in an instant. Decide to leave. Pull another vanishing act. The trust was there but Danny's current doubts and fears were far stronger.

Danny was holding Steve's 5-0 badge. His expression more confused than ever before. Under the dashboard of the car, his knee had yet to stop its nervous jigging in place. "Yeah," Danny muttered under his breath. "M'fine."

He was preoccupied and nervous, alternating between staring at Steve's badge and looking out the window as they drove. Oddly, Danny hadn't asked too many questions at all. He'd really only asked one or two: the first, for Steve to qualify who he was. Then, astute as ever, his name if he wasn't Charlie.

Steve's grin was fond, even a little misty-eyed as he stared back at the road. They'd be at the hotel in less than five minutes now. Danny sensed that the name he'd chosen for himself hadn't quite fit but he'd felt a connection to it; his sub conscious had found it and latched on. That was fine; in fact, Steve barely hid the amused snort under his breath at another wayward thought. What if Danny had chosen _his_ name instead?

But that was where things in the car had started and then stopped. Everything else Danny wanted to ask seemed stuck, bottled up inside. Steve hadn't told him much more either. Not just yet. Only his own name, proof of who he was as Commander of the 5-0 Task Force through his badge and I.D. He looked across the short divide, noting the tightness around Danny's eyes and the overall look of exhaustion under all the dirt and bruises. His head bobbled on his neck and the circles under his eyes seemed darker, more pronounced. He was on the verge of a very real physical collapse and yet, he fought it all off. Steve's lips quirked upwards into a soft smile for his stubborn partner's grit.

While Steve was making silent promises to find and expunge from the earth whomever was responsible for attacking Danny, he was simultaneously embracing all those characteristics which made Steve love him so very much. Being stubborn to a fault never sounded so good to him as it did right then.

But Steve's gentle reveries didn't last too long. Danny was so so silent; so very mistrustful and Steve didn't need to push quite yet with providing too much information. Those kid gloves needed to stay on longer. He didn't dare guess what Danny's reaction to the full truth might be. He could guess disbelief as the likely first contender and he wrinkled his nose.

Those other not so beloved characteristics which this man held could certainly become Steve's nemesis.

So now, while they were both in the car? Steve held his tongue. He didn't ask his own set of questions, nor volunteer anything on his own. Danny was quiet and perhaps most of it was because he wasn't feeling well. No matter the reason, the car was definitely the wrong place to start any kind of heart to heart.

The hotel would actually be the best place once they got there. Quiet, private and non-threatening in all ways ... Steve would also be able to convince his partner to allow him to check out the full extent of his injuries. Gently suggest a visit to the hospital. At the very minimum, they could talk more; Steve could get a better handle on Danny's mental state and possible ... very gently ... coax some memories back. Then, he'd cross the battleground on getting Danny to a real hospital afterwards.

"Where are we going?" Danny suddenly interjected, completely distracted by the scenery flashing by outside.

Steve picked up on the tone at once. In just a few seconds, Danny had become suspicious and was very much back on that razor's edge. He wasn't wearing a seat belt - he'd never put one on - and now, he'd dropped Steve's badge. He had one hand on the handle to the door. Something had happened and whatever it was, it was slowly unraveling Danny's resolve thread by terrible thread; Steve could feel the tension growing and those brief moments of happiness evaporated.

"The Hilo Hawaiian," Steve replied easily. He was on high alert though as he unconsciously sat a little straighter while he drove. "It's a nice hotel … you can clean up there. Have something else to eat. Is that okay?"

At first, there was no reply to any of that. And with a worried start, Steve realized it was because something was very wrong and what he'd just said had only piled on more damage. With only a few explanatory words, he _had_ said the wrong thing. Danny's fingers were wrapped so tightly around the door's handle, his knuckles were white through the layers of dirt. His knee which had been jigging nervously under the dash, intensified its abstract dance.

"What's the matter?" Steve asked in a rush. "What did I say? What's wrong?"

"Hotel ... why a hotel?" Danny asked all nerves and wide eyes. He bit his lip to stifle a soft pained moan as he turned awkwardly towards Steve, his injured arm tucked protectively into his lap. "Why are you driving a rental car ... just what the hell is going on?"

"Because ... 5-0 operates out of Oahu," Steve stammered for a moment. He scrubbed his hand roughly through his hair. He'd stupidly never considered that Danny didn't know where they were. "And we're on the Big Island right now ... you do know that, right?"

When Danny didn't immediately respond to that basic tidbit of information, Steve knew the answer to be a resounding negative. Danny was clueless and Steve kept forgetting the full extent of what that really could mean.

"Shit, Danny ... I'm sorry," Steve whispered quietly. He shook his head in shocked dismay. He'd never considered Danny's reaction to what a hotel might mean or signify. He'd anticipated staying on the Big Island at least one night to follow up on the police report. Of course, a hotel made sense and he'd never even remotely considered that it might be a problem. He never thought about what it might look like - then again, he never anticipated finding Danny quite like this. He sure as hell didn't think that Danny didn't even know where he was.

Steve cursed softly under his breath because he had to stop taking _everything_ for granted. "All right, listen to me ... you and I? We know each other. We're friends ... more than friends," Steve amended softly. "You're safe with me. But I think you know that already deep down. Don't you - you have to, right? It's why you came back."

He chuffed a queer sound under his breath, his worry growing in leaps and bounds when Danny still didn't reply. "I need you to trust me just a little bit longer. You've gotten this far ... I think you already know that you can trust me. So please ... _please_ just give me some more time to explain things to you. But not in the car ... not here. You're tired, hurting. Just ... _just_ let me help you and then, if you don't like what I have to say ...," Steve paused again not wanting to say what he knew he had to promise.

"Yeah, if you don't ... you can leave. No strings attached."

Still, his partner could leave at any moment. He could bolt at a traffic light or stop sign. Hell, once they got to the hotel, he could pull another vanishing act. All that could happen if Steve didn't blatantly handcuff Danny to an immovable object - to himself - or, even manhandle him through the hotel's fine doors where he could lock him safely away until he figured things out.

Steve didn't want to do any of that though. _Charlie_. He shook his head, fighting his emotions. Danny's son. Of all the names to pick, he'd chosen that one and he wondered what Danny's reaction would be when he found out he had two beautiful kids. That he and Danny were ... living together. Lovers. Committed partners in every sense of those special words.

 _Notyetnotyetnotyet._ That warning chant was in Steve's mind as he was tempted to blurt so much out.

The car though - on the road - this was no place to get into things. The words would be rushed and sound insincere. Worse yet, unbelievable ... fabricated. What if Danny pushed back hard and just didn't believe any of it? Steve could alienate Danny faster than ever before. He needed _time_. The right place or at least a better place. Somewhere where they could relax, Steve could tend to Danny's injuries, and just _talk_.

"So? Will you do that for me?" Steve asked. "Give me time to explain ... help figure out what the hell is going on?"

Danny was hurt and sick, traumatized and most incredibly suffering from amnesia. If Steve didn't find and rebuild their full volume of trust, something that already seemed attainable based on Danny's first major step, he sensed that he might make Danny's recovery more of trial. With a small modicum of relief, Steve saw Danny nod. He watched as Danny moved his hand from the door's handle to his knee which hadn't stopped its nervous jigging.

"All right, buddy," Steve breathed out through softly. He reached out again, slowly and gently, incapable of not skirting his fingers across the back of Danny's hand just once. The hand which was once again holding his injured arm to his chest.

"We got this. We do ... I promise."

If Steve drove a little fast after that, Danny didn't offer comment. In fact, not another word was shared as they entered the hotel's property to park. Steve's heart was in his throat as he walked in front of Danny into the hotel's large main lobby and on to the elevators, having to trust he would follow since his partner had refused to be helped.

"I'm on the second floor," Steve said, relieved when no one joined them in the elevator. It was the late in the day, most inhabitants of the pretty hotel were either getting ready for dinner or already at some tourist event or another. For the most part, the place was calm. Quiet.

"It's a nice room. We don't have an ocean view, but it's still pretty nice."

The light-hearted words fell completely flat. Sweating profusely and now stumbling along in his barefoot exhaustion, Danny's eyes were glassy as they flit nervously around. To Steve, to the buttons in the elevator, to his mussed and very blurred reflection in the elevator's shiny golden interior. His anxiety was obvious as the elevator opened on their floor and Steve pointed down the hallway, towards the room.

"219," he noted calmly. "Come on, everything's going to be fine."

He didn't look back again as he opened the door and entered the air-conditioned room, only sensing that Danny was thankfully still behind him. Following slowly … cautiously.

" _Please Danny,"_ Steve whispered to himself as he briefly closed his eyes. Not looking again until the door snicked shut. Then he turned slowly, half expecting to be alone. Danny was there though still hanging on to his instincts. Even if he hadn't fully come into the hotel room and Steve offered him a kind, gentle smile.

"So what do you think, huh?" Steve tried again. "Nice, right?"

There was a sketchy nod and then silence. The two studied each other more closely now. Steve unsure of what to do or say first because his arms were aching to pull Danny close. To hold him and reassure both of them that things would truly be fine.

But it was Danny who spoke first. Voice low and uncertain, it was clear that he felt that he was still taking a terrible chance and Steve's heart took another undeserved beating.

"So...," Danny said. His good arm was spread wide and he looked vulnerable. Frightened. His back was up against the door, his ready exit literally a handspan away. He looked around the room. Acknowledging the two made-up beds, the sliding glass doors out to the lanai, and Steve's simple travel bag which didn't seem to have been opened at all.

"I just got here today ... this morning," Steve explained softly when he followed Danny's gaze, assuming what he'd conclude. "I came ... looking for you. To bring you home."

"All right. I'm here," Danny replied after a moment's pause. He swallowed hard, his face pale, his brow dotted with sweat. He pinned Steve with a firm look despite the way his shoulders were trembling. There would be no sitting down for a quiet chat. No, not quite yet and Steve had to fight back that proud grin despite all of his worries and wants.

Unless Danny fell flat on his face in the next thirty seconds, it was Steve who would be put under the microscope. Much like the inquisition and it was he who would need to pass full muster.

 _'Stubborn to a damned fault,'_ Steve thought to himself as he watched Danny take a deep breath, knowing full well what this first battery of questions were going to be. He'd seen his partner in their own rendition room time and again. Going in for the kill. Asking questions and spouting sarcasm with a mouthiness beyond Steve's own capabilities. He knew that a soft smile was back on his lips, but he just couldn't help it.

"Why don't we sit down ..," Steve tried to suggest, interrupted by quick shake of Danny's head. He winced in sympathy at the same time Danny grimaced. The pain in his eyes was visible now, but this had quite inconceivably become Danny's show the moment that hotel room door had closed.

Anything Steve might have quietly plotted in the car was tabled without his say-so.

If he had the physical wherewithal right there in the hotel, no doubt Danny's hands would either be shoved deeply in his pockets or painting arcs through the air. He'd be rocking - almost bouncing in anticipation - on the balls of his feet.

But now, disheveled and sick. Stubborn beyond hell, Steve couldn't have loved Danny more that in that very moment as his partner did his best to pull himself together. Even with most of those mannerisms muffled by sickness and pain, Steve was not to be disappointed.

"Now, tell me ... Steve. Who the hell am I ... and why am I here?"

_**~ to be continued ~** _


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not own Hawaii Five-0 or any characters. No copyright infringement intended.
> 
> Chapters are getting longer and longer ... but I didn't think splitting this particular one made much sense. So ... grab a cookie and put your feet up!

 

 **H** **5O* H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O**

 

Danny wasn't sure what to believe. Steve's story was far-fetched and yet … felt right. It felt _right_ just like it had felt so very right to wait for Steve at the diner. Approaching him and then finally, going along with him to the hotel. Even after a few misgivings, that now mostly felt very right, too. But Danny didn't trust himself anymore after what he'd been told. He was confused all over again and a bit nervous about committing to these gut instincts.

Lieutenant Commander Steven J. McGarrett. He knew Steve's full name, his rank, SEAL background and a great deal about 5-0. He knew more than just his own name now, too.

Sergeant Detective Daniel Williams by way of New Jersey and the Newark Police Department. Evidently he was also some kind of cop. He'd just about laughed out right at that one. As he studied his bare feet and the dirt and abrasions smudging his hands, it was _all_ downright hard to swallow. Then? Things got even more interesting. Not only had Danny relocated to some god-forsaken rock in the Pacific, he was part of the Governor's Special Task Force on Oahu ...

 _... and_ , Danny was Steve's work partner.

He took a deep breath and then slowly blew the air out through pursed lips, his head was throbbing. He couldn't seem to get warm and his stomach was becoming more and more queasy. His eyes felt swollen and were now closing all on their own and he was fighting hard to stay awake. He couldn't stop thinking though. He kept re-playing all of this new information on an endless loop and despite the spike which continued to drill a nasty hole straight though the middle of his head.

 _Forwards, backwards. Sideways._ Looking for all the holes he could poke at and in the end, though it all sounded ludicrous, he couldn't find many at all.

"Danny? Don't you think we should stop now?" Steve gently suggested. "Take a shower buddy ... I really need to take a look at your injuries. And then, it's been enough for one night; I promise that we can finish this all up tomorrow."

He squinted upwards to look into Steve's face. Steve was right. He should stop. But round robin he went again in that over-used mental gym. Danny. He was _Danny_. So? Okay, so fine, _'Charlie now Danny'_ could stomach at least that part of what he'd been told. Everything else though? He wasn't entirely convinced one iota. Based on his expression, Steve was wanting to talk more and yet intentionally asking to table the rest until tomorrow due to Danny's increasing list of physical woes.

They'd been speaking for a long enough time after Danny's first loaded questions and he looked over to where Steve was sitting again. They were almost shoulder to shoulder. Well, not quite really, but sitting much closer than they had since this whole story-telling episode had begun. Danny had slouched onto the edge of one bed. Steve, the other.

They'd progressed well enough bit by bit and Danny was certainly more at ease. But it hadn't started out that way. At first, Danny had insisted upon sitting on the floor closest to the door … Steve on the edge of the furthest bed. Twice, Steve had asked to tend to Danny's injuries and twice, Danny had declined the need.

Danny had eventually moved to be more in the room once Steve had ordered room service. Queasy, Danny had just picked at the food. What had smelled so good earlier in the day just wasn't appealing anymore. He'd tried though for Steve's sake, yet still keeping a wide berth between them. His back always to the door. A ready escape. Just in case. A stubborn stance which was admittedly growing old - even to him.

Admitting if it might not be medically the wisest thing to do, Steve had carefully tried to fill in a number of blanks. He had answered each of Danny's pointed questions. Then, Steve had finally asked Danny what he'd remembered about the car accident; how he had been moved to the Big Island. The startling reply was _nothing_. His mind was a black hole. None of what Steve described sounded even remotely credible. Other than their names, Danny wasn't sure he believed anything at all. Car accidents? Nameless, faceless attackers? He as a _cop_ \- a detective - when just setting eyes on a uniform sent a tendril of downright fear through him? _Why_? To that, even Steve didn't have a ready answer. The mystery of why Danny had been brought to the Big Island was still just that. Those who'd committed the crime, still unknowns.

But, as Danny stared at him now, there was still this question of _Steve_ and a subtle whisper that he was missing something. Something important.

 _Steve_. Being _with_ Steve …. felt right. And as he'd said, he needed to trust someone anyway. So why not him? Well, ' _Charlie now Danny'_ stubbornly thought there might be a ton of good reasons to argue against that. Especially when he knew that Steve was most definitely wanting to stop their chat. It meant that he was holding back on a few other pertinent items until the next day. He shook his head in confusion, deciding to dwell on one particular reality: his body hurt. He had injuries which he didn't remember getting … he might have been in a fistfight for all he could remember and Steve's explanation of a car accident might be entirely made up.

 _No,_ a voice whispered nastily in his head about his obstinate hold on being so damned contrary. He was making himself sicker. _No, no ... it's true._

"So, this car accident … on Oahu? You think I was forced off the road?" Danny more repeated than asked as he ran his fingers near the painful ridge creasing his hairline. He looked at his hands more closely and saw those many days old scrapes, cuts and bruises more differently now. Including the long gouge hidden under his shirt sleeve, high on his bicep. It was hot, painful and needed to have had some kind of care when it had first happened. Try as he may though, he couldn't remember a thing. Nothing.

"I don't remember," Danny muttered to himself. How could he not remember something so violent? He looked up, feeling Steve's eyes on him. Worried. Concerned. _Caring_.

"What's the first thing you _do_ remember?" Steve asked. "Anything? Even a smell ... or a color."

Danny frowned. He hadn't really considered coming at his issues backwards. So, okay ... what did he first remember?

"It was dark," he finally offered. "I was cold ... wet. Like it had rained or something. I had to climb ... yeah,..."

He paused then thinking hard. _He'd been covered in dirt and in a ... hole?_ Or maybe even a ditch. It hadn't been too deep. If it had, with his injuries so fresh, he'd never have gotten out.

_He'd been on his hands ... and knees. Breathing hard ... pain-wracking his body. Tasting blood on his lips. He'd pulled himself up, scrabbling through dirt and over rocks. Nearly deaf and dumb from pain and shock._

"Climb?" Steve asked hoarsely. Danny squinted upwards to find Steve's face.

" _Yeah_ ... I remember crawling out of a ditch or something." Damned if his head wasn't beating that terrible drum again. Steve was right, they needed to stop talking. He didn't like this tact and Danny needed to do something else. Anything else as a shudder ran through his body. He needed to allow Steve a look at his injuries, especially the wounds to his head and arm. But right then, Danny was taken aback. Steve's face was suffused in anger.

"What else?" He practically growled out and Danny found himself searching for the right words.

"The ocean ... I could smell it," Danny whispered as he closed his eyes and went back to a distant, fuzzy moment which he first could remember. "I saw the moon ... clouds. Then ... I just started to walk. I remember hurting and not having any clothes or shoes ... and just being so sick. Out of it. I came around in some old building ... I dunno."

"The clothes?" Steve prompted angrily, almost hissing in anger. "God, Danny." Dragging his hands over his face, he got up from where he was sitting to pace the short distance from bed to the glass sliders. Hands fisted, Danny was sure Steve was going to pummel something right then and there. Maybe put his fist right through the glass itself. One second later though, that red hot fury was gone. Anger had turned into a sense of distress all over again.

"Clothes?" Danny blinked rapidly, and his mouth gaped opened only to close without uttering a word. That hadn't been an actual question. Steve was in a rage and Danny was missing the point. He picked stupidly at the ill-fitting rags until it dawned on his tired brain. It wasn't the clothes that was bothering Steve; it was the fact that he'd been dumped. Left for dead. Made to crawl himself to a semblance of safety, quite literally with nothing on his body.

Staring up at Steve, Danny didn't know what to do yet when it came to the strong set of emotions which he was blatantly wearing on his sleeve.

"It's okay, Danno. We'll figure it out. We have to stop this for tonight. I really need to check on you. Besides your head, where are you hurt?" Steve asked, his tone gruff as he pointed to Danny's left arm. He inhaled sharply, fighting some internal demon - trying to rediscover some calm - all the while his eyes blazed. "Your arm ... how bad is it?"

Danny shook his head for a moment, clearing a tight feeling from inside his chest. _Danno? What the hell was that?_ That word was doing something to him and Danny clenched his fingers, his nails biting into the palms of his hand. A glimmer of other voices teased a memory and he felt light-headed for a moment.

 _Danno?_ He looked down at his injured arm. He had it cradled in his lap and he chuffed a sound under his breath. His discomfort was likely obvious. Hell, he'd been tired and sick since meeting Steve. But the way Steve was looking at him now … that use of some kind of nickname … it was … _odd_ ….and Danny didn't know what to do about it. Not until the germ of a new question teased forward far more strongly.

Not _'who am I'?' …_ as much as _'who are we?_ ' and he wasn't sure he liked this new question at all.

"I have a med kit …" Steve announced. "I'd like to check that out … it could be bad; infected." Without waiting, he determinedly began digging though his duffle.

"What are you, a freaking Good Samaritan _and_ a Boy Scout all rolled into one?" Danny muttered under his breath suddenly annoyed as Steve tossed the kit onto the bed. The man was prepared to say the least. But with this new question rattling round inside his hurting head, Danny was backpedaling again. Deciding that he wasn't ready yet at all. Not by a long shot and he stood up, wobbling in place.

"No."

"All right," Steve groaned tiredly. He raised his hands high, fingers spread in apology, taking a full step away and staying right by the bed. "All right … I'm sorry. I'll back off. Just ... sit down before you fall down, huh?"

"No, I should go; I need to go," Danny suddenly whispered. This wasn't right at all. Who had he been kidding? His instincts were misfiring. Steve's story was ludicrous on all levels. Cops and robbers … he and Steve as _partners_ on some kind of crazy task force? _No_ , no way.

"What? No! But …." Steve's alarm was evident in his tone as Danny lurched towards the door. "Listen to me, all right. You have to believe me. If whoever did this is still out there, you need to stay here where I can …."

"Where what?" Danny scoffed. "Where _you_ can protect me? I barely know you!"

"No, no Danny … that's so not true," Steve whispered brokenly. "You _know_ me. You do and I .. I need you to please, _please_ listen to me for once in your life."

"For once in my life?" Danny repeated loudly, not knowing why those words irked him so badly. "What the hell does that mean?!" He waved his hand through the air, wincing as his head began to throb again. Adrenalin spurred him forward though as his temper rose, making him dizzy and he put his hand, steadying himself against the wall.

"If all of this crap you're feeding me is true? Evidently then … I haven't listened to you maybe _ever_ in this supposed _friendship_ that we have," Danny groused. "Maybe … _maybe_ because you're wrong? _Huh_?" He rubbed at his temple unhappily as his vision blurred. Steve's face dimmed dangerously... that new question percolated and Danny knuckled his forehead harder. This couldn't be right. No.

"Danno," Steve walked towards him, stopping short as Danny glowered a warning his way. "Just ... sit the hell down. You're in no condition to do anything or go anywhere right now."

"And that ...," Danny pushed out through clenched teeth, just as determined. "That ... name." Getting mad wasn't doing a blessed thing for his head and he probably couldn't get off the wall now if his life depended upon it. The room was spinning and his vision was whiting out. Still, he pushed himself.

"W-what the hell is that _Danno_ nonsense?"

Steve's faced turned ashen in an instant. His mouth opened and then closed soundlessly before he nodded.

"All right. Your two kids call you that," he answered carefully. "Me too … sometimes ... But Gracie, your daughter … and Charlie, your son. _Your two kids_. They call you Danno all the time."

"My ... two _what_?" Danny blurted in stunned awe, no longer even feeling the wall under his hand or the floor beneath his bare feet.

**H50 H50 H50**

Danny sat quietly on the side of the bed, holding a large wad of soft gauze to the sluggishly oozing wound on his bicep. Steve was on his knees in front of him diligently caring for each and every abrasion, cut and scrape on his battered body. He'd shaved, then taken a shower, needing help in an almost embarrassing way when the heat of the water had sapped the last of his strength. He'd then changed into a spare pair of sleep pants from Steve's duffel bag.

Now, he watched the top of Steve's head as the man worked, his eyes practically crossing as Steve's hair became a blurry, dark shadow. It was late now; well past nightfall. He'd gone through an emotional backlash of his own and as Steve catered to him, Danny just wanted to curl up and sleep.

The concept of leaving was no longer up for discussion. Danny was staying. But he couldn't sleep. His mind was racing as he beat himself up. Now pliable to whatever Steve wanted him to do, Danny hadn't said a single word since Steve had mentioned the idea of children.

Kids. _His kids._

Grace. _Charlie_. Like Steve, Danny didn't miss the irony of the name he'd selected for himself.

Charlie. His kids. He'd been stricken dumb when Steve had shown him the pictures on his cell phone. Pictures of him, Steve, Grace, and Charlie … various pictures. So many pictures which provided the proof Danny had wanted.

The thing was though, Danny still didn't remember anything and this particular proof of _being_ \- of who he was - made that mental gap all the more worse now. _He had a family._ He was missed. Loved. Steve was indeed desperate to help him … have him remember. Steve only hadn't brought the kids up earlier because Danny hadn't given him half a chance. Then, out of some weird fear of providing far too much for Danny to digest in one sitting, he'd thought to discuss it the next day. He'd been afraid to _break_ Danny more. He'd meant well. But now that the news was out, Danny knew that Steve had craved some kind of mammoth revelation.

And that hadn't happened. Their joint disappointment was palpable.

Danny cringed as Steve got off his knees to sit down on the bed next to him. His reaction had nothing to do with Steve's proximity. It had everything to do with his aches and pains. Now that he was clean, his body seemed to hurt more than ever. He _felt_ as if he'd been either in a wreck or at least run over by a truck. He'd taken two of the over the counter pain meds Steve had given him, but he wasn't convinced they'd do more than take the edge off.

He just hurt _so_ much. Inside and out.

"Saved the best for last," Steve noted ruefully as he gently replaced Danny's hand with his own. "I'll go slow."

His eyes were already apologizing as he dug through the med kit. Danny didn't say a word as he watched and was tended to. The bed was littered with bits of paper, medical tape and gauze. There was more on the floor. Fisted in one hand, was the roll of clean gauze, the roll of tape was by his knee. Next to that scissors and a nearly used up tube of antibacterial ointment. Steve was diligent but Danny wondered if he looked like a patchwork quilt, held together by paper and duct tape.

He'd saved the tender wound on his arm for last. It was tight, hot and throbbing now that it had been cleaned. Its edges were reddened and raw; the skin puffy. Danny knew that Steve had been right. It was infected and well past the time for stitches. He was running a fever. Without proper care, he'd soon be headed for a dangerous case of sepsis.

"How are you doing, buddy? Holding up okay?" Steve asked as he glanced up. Then he shook his head, his expression sad. "You're exhausted. This was too much ... too much for one night."

He'd been treating Danny like glass ever since he'd mentioned the children. Ever since Danny had quietly acquiesced to staying and allowing Steve all of his druthers. His fingers were gentle, deft with treating each individual injury. Quiet and steadfast, Danny inherently knew that Steve was still angry though … upset over each and every scratch or cut. Furious over what he'd been through.

 _'Dumped like a dog.'_ He'd thought he'd heard Steve mutter under his breath, teeth clenched as he gently catered to the nasty head wound. Quiet oath after quiet oath followed as he tenderly parted Danny's hair, trying to clean the worst of it. If Steve ever discovered who'd done this, Danny's gut instincts were now telling him that they'd eventually be in a world of hurt of their own.

"Yeah. Fine," Danny murmured wearily as Steve's profile waxed and waned. "Good."

"I'll do my best. It's going to hurt though," Steve said. "Then bed. You're dead on your feet, buddy. Tomorrow we'll figure things out … get you home. Okay?"

Danny nodded because what could he say now? He squinted owlishly into Steve face, practically cross-eyed with fatigue and saw all those things he'd seen before. The worry and concern. But there was something deeper there, too and Danny closed his eyes for a minute, vainly trying to blink the exhaustion away. When he looked again, Steve was intent on this nastiest of gouges, his fingers smeared with antibiotic cream. Danny studied him again, the strength of his fingers, the suppleness of his wrists. Wracked with exhaustion, he allowed himself to follow the line of Steve's arm, to a bicep where the promise of a complex tattoo peeked out from under a short-sleeved shirt. Danny got caught there for a moment, staring at the blurred colors, yet concentrating on the feeling of those skilled fingers as Steve began to wrap layer after layer of gauze now to protect the wound.

"Too late for stitches," Steve noted softly. "This will do for now, but you need to see a real doctor. You've got a few more decent cuts on your back and I don't like the fever ... you're sick. You'll be okay for tonight, but you need more than I can do here."

Danny was too tired to argue. Besides, his brain was chugging down a different, happier path.

All those pictures. Him, Charlie, Grace ... and Steve. Uncle Steve. _Steve?_ He sat there quietly as Steve dressed the wound on his arm. Starting to doze, his mind gave up on its earlier frenzy and started to focus on particular pieces of his broken puzzle, making it more whole.

Danny was scarcely hearing Steve's soft apologies as he finished dressing the deep, jagged cut. His gaze flicked back down to the tanned fingers which were gently taping the bandage into place. Without thinking, he reached out, drawn to their quiet strength. Mesmerized, Danny ran his fingers over Steve's knuckles and then the skin over the back of his hand, feeling its warmth.

 _Yes_ , the concern was there; the care. Danny absolutely felt all of that. But there was something else too that his addled brain was trying to sort out. In its fatigue, that over-tired question came back again. Hell, it had never left if Danny were honest. It only had altered slightly with the mention of Charlie and Grace.

_'Who are we?'_

Danno ... Charlie, Grace ... and Steve. Uncle Steve.

_Danny. Steve._

_Who are we?_ ' He nearly whispered it aloud. And maybe then he did as he unthinkingly wrapped his hand around the strong wrist and leaned forward in that moment of quietude, not realizing that Steve had stopped moving entirely. He meant to say _thank you_ but Danny's head lolled forward to find the crook of Steve's shoulder and he closed his eyes. He meant to say _thank you_ or something even more profound. For all intents and purposes, this man had saved his life.

 _Found. Saved. Rediscovered. Loved. More than friends_...Steve's words. Danny remembered hearing that and now he knew what those quiet words had really meant.

Instead of saying anything, Danny simply forgot it all as he relaxed into the hand which cautiously caressed his brow as if trying to ease the headache away. _Who are we?_ ' His tired brain teased as those strong fingers smoothed through his hair, gently combing strand by strand. It was a loving, soothing gesture and Danny leaned even more into it. _Friends. More than friends._

"Danno. You need to get some sleep," Steve's soft tenor thrummed pleasantly over his head and Danny hummed an agreeable sound. He did. It was true, but moving was suddenly out of the question. Instead, he opted to stay just where he was next to Steve. Close to him. Listening to his heart beat. Something made all the better when Steve slowly wrapped his free arm around his shoulders to pull him closer still, those blessedly lithe fingers continuing to run gentle circles through his damp hair.

A soft, chaste kiss was placed on the top of his head and Danny's beleaguered brain slowly put the rest of all those tiny clues together. _He was home. He was really safe._ His worry about _'who are we'_ was answered without words, but with caresses and tender, feather-light touches. The gentle press of an occasional kiss to his throbbing head.

"Steve ...," Danny whispered already half asleep as he twined his fingers comfortably through Steve's.

"You're exhausted," Steve whispered back, a soft smile in his tone.

Then Danny was being moved, coaxed to lay down, virtually swaddled in blankets when he shivered. He never figured out when his eyes had permanently decided to close. They simply had somewhere along the way and he at least remembered to mumble a thankful noise as Steve's fingers smoothed a few strands of hair off his forehead.

"Sleep, Danny. Tomorrow, I'm taking you home …"

_**~ to be continued ~** _


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not own Hawaii Five-0 or any characters. No copyright infringement intended.
> 
> Notes: My sincere thanks to everyone - especially the guests who I can't reply directly to. I appreciate every single one of your kind comments. This chapter is sort of a quiet interlude ... maybe ... It is not an original part of the first draft. 
> 
> It's brand new ... and without it? I don't know. Well it just feels wrong to omit it now that it's written out. I have to trust the plot bunny on this one! Let's see what happens ... the muse said Steve's POV was needed.
> 
> Rough work week - mistakes are my own.

**H** **5O* H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O**

 

Steve sat on the edge of the bed until Danny's fingers went completely lax inside his hand. And then he stayed there even a bit longer, just watching Danny sleep, unwilling to let him go. There was an overall peacefulness to Danny's face now despite the occasional flickers of discomfort due to injury and fever. Maybe the subtle wince or brief furrow of his brow were the preludes to disturbing dreams. Regardless, Danny was definitely out for the count: his sleep was the sleep of the deeply exhausted. Something which Steve could definitely understand as he scrubbed a hand over blood-shot eyes with no hope of wiping the burn away. He was just as exhausted and mentally drained, but he didn't matter. Not yet.

By some divine miracle, he had Danny back... and why? Mostly because of Danny himself. But there were so many questions left. Far too many loose ends to deal with, one of which Danny had even voiced.

_If he was a cop, why then was he so afraid of the uniform?_

It was a major piece of the puzzle and could provide the breakthrough that they needed. Any idiot could see that. But who? And was that person a real officer or some lunatic masquerading as one? Steve automatically started running through a mental list of possibles within the Honolulu Police Department. He glowered angrily at an old memory, briefly revisiting Rick Peterson's vendetta against Danny so many years earlier. The man had kidnapped Grace and then manipulated Danny to a terrible extent. Grace had been barely eight years old and could have died. Steve sure as hell didn't want to think that something so similar had happened again, but ... here they were ... only proving that anything was possible. So as he sat there, Steve concocted a list which was small and literally founded upon nothing at all. It was almost a joke to try. Danny didn't have any enemies that he knew of; no one lurking around any corners. So, to gain a broader perspective and widen the net, he needed help. He needed to call Chin or Kono first thing in the morning to pursue more qualified perpetrators.

But something else wandered across his mind and Steve frowned in consideration. _Did they know?_ However he handled these next steps, Steve wondered if Danny's attackers even knew he was alive.

He thought about that point while sitting there, a finger running idly back and forth over the back of Danny's wrist as he continued to hold his partner's limp hand. He hadn't called anyone yet; he hadn't had the time with Danny being his primary focus. Finding him. Losing him and then ... thank God, Danny had done what he'd done. Steve's entire day had been fraught with nonstop activity from start to finish. Only that one local officer might still know. However, he might have been so embarrassed by Steve's irate reaction in the diner, there was a good chance he'd stay quiet. So unless _he_ talked already, no one else would know about Danny at all. And if that was true, Steve's chances had greatly improved in keeping Danny's status on the down low.

"What a day, _huh_?" Steve whispered to himself.

Completely unwilling to leave his partner's side, Steve leaned forward, running the fingers of his free hand gently over Danny's forehead when a series of furrows appeared, skirting his thumb softly over the purpling abrasion on his cheekbone which had been hidden under grime and days worth of rough stubble. Steve's lips twitched into a fond smile when Danny's face eased again, his head rolling to the side to meet the palm of his hand. Chuffing a thoughtful noise and still smiling, Steve's thumb automatically continued its slow caress until he was sure that Danny was staying in that deep natural sleep. Balanced on his hip, he canted his body forward, Danny's fingers still clasped within his hand to kiss the bruised knuckles one by one.

"Love you, Danno," he whispered, that same soft smile still on his face. "But yeah, I think you know that already. Don't you?"

Steve had to grin. Danny had amnesia but he _knew_ ... he _knew_ that he and Steve were _more_. Special. He'd discovered their trust without needing too many words at all. Danny would heal; Steve knew that he'd remember and things would be fine. Go back to normal. With a final sweet kiss to the back of Danny's hand and those happier things in mind, Steve reluctantly got to his feet.

After nearly eight days of hell, he was loathe to tear his eyes away from the blanket-wrapped shape. So he just stood there, feeling the shock of the day still reverberating through his own body. He was exhausted as the adrenalin left his system. With Danny finally here, with him, sleeping soundly, Steve felt it all catch up in a rush. He was running on fumes now. His legs were simultaneously stiff and weirdly wobbly; his head pounding soundly without remorse. The only time he'd forced himself to eat was here, with Danny. Steve was desperate to make plans, but he also need to get some rest. It was hard though to turn his tired brain off because this reunion almost hadn't been.

Steve had almost lost Danny for good ... twice. There would be no third time.

Since the car accident, things had been a hectic, frenetic progression until it had all just ... _stopped_. Steve literally cringed as those terrible memories rolled through his mind and he felt a resurgence of his temper. He was far too personally vested in this of course and his emotions were too close to the surface; still controlling him. He needed to calm down for Danny's sake and in order to do this the right way. He couldn't afford to make any mistakes. Not one.

The memories were stubborn though and Steve sighed helplessly with himself as he replayed them over again. The aggravated call from Grace had set things off in the beginning, all teenage temper and bluff, which had turned into fear when Danny didn't show. His own trepidation had skyrocketed when he'd gotten the call about the Camaro ... the accident. In a way, those early events had progressed rapidly ... the rapid hand-off of Charlie to his mother, Rachel. Steve, driving like a mad man to get to the scene of the accident.

 _The Camaro._ A partly burned out shell, upside down well-surrounded by first responders, fire department personnel and police. Steve vaguely remembered wondering why others were grouped in two's and three's searching the underbrush, the rocky paths along the road. He'd registered them all and then looked for his own people.

Chin had gotten there first, the stress had already been showing on his face. Lou, had been pacing like a lion next to the ambulance, its rear doors had been flung wide, an empty stretcher within. The big man's expression had been one of sheer anger, he'd been shouting out a spate of demands. Steve had run over, frantic, believing that Danny might be there with the EMT's. Maybe he just hadn't seen him; _maybe_ the big bulk of Lou's body was hiding him from view. But Danny hadn't been there. And Steve had launched himself into a tear of his own when Lou had explained that they hadn't found him yet.

_No Danny. No body._

For hours, they'd searched. Yet, Danny hadn't been found in the wreckage or anywhere along the road or even in the ravine. So the search widened more, a fear taking hold that he'd been inconceivably mobile and wandered away on his own. _Injured. Lost. Confused._ A chopper had been called in by that point. Hovering overhead, Kono up high managing that search grid.

There'd been no sign of him though. No witnesses. _Nothing_. Hours had become days. There'd been nothing whatsoever until this very odd call from the Big Island police department.

Those tears were back in Steve's eyes as he shook himself to the present, scrubbing his hand over his face and then roughly up into his hair. He paused alert as ever when Danny shifted just slightly in his sleep, a small murmur of distress passing over his lips before it eased. Steve gazed down at him with a tender expression, his eyes glistening dangerously and he forced it all back down. _He had him back now_ ... and Steve had some calls to make; orders of his own to give. Someone would pay. It was just a matter of who and when.

Sleep first though or he'd be good for nothing and that's how mistakes would be made. He inhaled deeply, filling his lungs. Willing his emotions to stay at bay longer and in doing so, forcing himself a few feet away from Danny's side.

He dimmed the lights in the room and locked the sliding doors out to the balcony, closing off the heavy blinds, too. Unless something changed overnight, he'd allow Danny to sleep himself out. He double-bolted their entry door and then stood back wondering what he forgot, hands fisted on hips. A minute later, he was taking a pillow and blanket off the spare bed, putting them on the floor in the narrow hallway. His own body would be a human barricade to anyone trying to enter. Or, even leave for that matter ... ' _just in case',_ a terrible insecure voice whispered inside his head.

Steve stretched out long on his makeshift bed, the hotel room now comfortably dark. To his right, he could hear each of Danny's soft, consistent breaths of air. Things could keep until the next day. Danny would sleep, they'd go home and then right to the hospital on Oahu. Not here. Steve wanted Danny on his own soil where Steve could better control the situation.

Before giving in to his own needs, Steve pulled his cell phone out, wincing just from the light of the small screen. He absolutely needed to send a few particular messages knowing that his intentional use of an obtuse shorthand would send off particular alarms across his team: Chin, Kono, Lou.

"Tango in hand. TD @2. On the DL"

_He had Danny. Danny was safe; they were coming home on a 2pm flight. But ... no one was to know._

Steve knew other gaps would be filled in. For example, they'd be waiting for him and Danny when they landed. They'd be geared up and ready for anything ... they would have already arranged for something secure at the hospital.

It was late now. Well past midnight. Despite that, Steve got a flurry of similarly obtuse replies and even the widest fully grinning smiley face icon he'd ever seen. He almost laughed out loud when he saw it, but he was too damned tired.

One thing was very clear. Once he and his team could figure out what the hell had happened and why, whoever had done this would pay in spades. Right at that moment though, while listening to the soothing cadence of Danny's even breathing, Steve closed his eyes.

_**~ to be continued ~** _


	7. Chapter 7

 

**H** **5O* H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O**

 

He looked outside again, noting that the driveway was still empty. His hand-picked, stalwart team of protectors were just feet away at the curb in an unmarked police car. He'd been home 12 days. The first 10 with Steve by his side; these last two, mostly alone.

Steve was at _work_ … Danny thought that he'd like to get back to work, too, even if he needed a street map to do it. Something in his bones disliked this idleness. He needed to do something constructive. Possibly even find out who had tried to kill him because he was sure that had been his attackers' objective. Leave him for dead on another remote island, an urge at play some terrible game to torment his family because, if this supposed plan had worked, they'd never have found him. It was mean-spirited and reeked of a dedicated sense of evil; it made Danny genuinely afraid if he had to admit that out loud.

He shivered at the thought of those vague dark memories which he'd described to Steve in the hotel room. Those images were in his dreams, always waking him and leaving him with a sense of desperation.

Danny left the window to walk through the house for the umpteenth time, his fingers trailing over photographs, furniture and linen. Almost 3 weeks had gone by since he'd been brave enough to confront Steve on the Big Island and he'd slowly fallen into a pleasant enough routine. He was happy for the most part. The looming elephant in the room was that he still had no memory of his life before the Big Island. Nothing whatsoever.

In some ways it was a terrible half existence. He didn't feel wholly part of anything and was never certain who might be friend or foe. Not that Steve would ever allow anyone within 100-feet of him without a proper shake-down.

Other things were absolutely perfect though.

The pictures which Steve had shown him on his cell phone hadn't done Grace or Charlie justice. In person? He'd loved his children on sight. Fiercely. They each loved him back unequivocally.

Steve loved him, too. And probably just as fiercely as Danny adored his kids. He was reassured of that truth every hour of every single day. And as he looked towards a certain framed print, Danny smiled because... _he loved Steve_. In fact since that first night in the hotel room, he had fallen in love with Steve all over again without a single reservation.

"Neanderthal," Danny whispered to himself as his smile grew tenfold. Steve was preening like a peacock over that one, insisting that Danny had known he loved Steve even earlier than that. Back at the diner, one foot bare and one not. Steve was convinced it had happened then. Love at first sight. Karma. The meddling Hawaiian Menehune at their finest.

No matter when it happened though, it was entirely true. Danny had indeed fallen in love with the ex-SEAL all over again.

When he couldn't count on his own stupid brain to provide insight to anything else, he retreated to those rock-solid facts. Thankful beyond measure that he'd waited for Steve that one day at the diner and then forced himself to knock on the window to that rental car.

If he hadn't? If he _hadn't_ …. Danny didn't want to consider the consequences of where he'd likely be. Sick. Dying. Dead. And he wasn't being extreme in those thoughts either because the infection in his bloodstream had been severe enough to warrant a 7-day hospital stay akin to house arrest because Steve had rarely left his side. While hospitalized, Steve was the last person Danny saw before falling into a sickly, often drug-induced sleep and then the first upon waking, often bleary-eyed and confused. And there had been very little change when it came to that particular habit. Steve was both obsessive and doting.

Danny snorted softly to himself at that before revising the words inside his head: _Steve doted obsessively_ ... something which Danny never failed to appreciate.

As he slowly walked from room to room, Danny returned to the living room to once again pause by the windows and stare out at the beauty of the mid-afternoon day, unconsciously glancing to the empty driveway. Cognizant of the unmarked HPD police vehicle parked at the curb with its two plainclothes occupants. Steve could be downright neurotic at the best of times. Just then though, Danny ignored the plainclothes team outside his home because he was determined to revel in the peace and quiet of the house. And that was only because Steve couldn't chastise him for thinking too hard; running through a self-induced series of mental gymnastics, self-designed to force his brain to work.

The kids were at school and Steve was back at work. Day two for his Commander at the 5-0 offices. Day one hadn't gone so well though and Danny smiled at the thought as he glanced towards their empty driveway. Steve was having a bad case of separation anxiety. Though the track record on this new experiment was abysmally short, there was a decent chance that day two would turn into another epic fail and Steve's big truck would come rolling in, hours too soon.

Danny heaved in a lungful of air before sighing, long and low. Frankly if he were to be honest, while he appreciated this new period of alone-time, he was nervous about it, too. The black hole that was his mind was a frightening place. His little experiments in testing himself weren't working and he usually wound up frustrated. Left to cope with violent migraines. He found himself in a strange place where everything was too new and he feared making a mistake. He alternately craved Steve's steadfast presence and wanted time to find himself. But his biggest fear was not knowing the face of his attacker and wondering what might happen should he or she show up un-announced. As he slowly resumed his lazy walk, Danny carefully rotated his arm. It was sore but healing well. His worst issues related to the knock he'd gotten on his head. Migraines, neck pain and occasional dizzy spells were common. Nothing too debilitating; except for the waves of fatigue which might come out of nowhere.

Still ... Danny hummed softly as an idea came to mind. It was a given that Steve would come home for lunch with some excuse or another. Though not quite cleared for actual work, Danny saw no reason why he couldn't return to the office with Steve for just a few hours; before Charlie was dropped off for dinner. Danny could check things out. Jog his memory and get re-acclimated. See if that kick-started anything. At minimum, he could make some rounds, get re-introduced to the concept of working.

"Check my files," he muttered to himself thoughtfully. He could do that ... check his own case file. Review what his team had uncovered so far; read through the forensics reports. Steve wouldn't like it. And the rest of that idea soured quickly though when he realized he didn't know his password or login credentials.

"God dammit," he growled out in frustration. He'd still lobby to go in though and tour his own office. Sit behind his desk and just ... _maybe he'd written down his password ...?_ He couldn't shake this new idea now. Not only did he need to go in to the office, he absolutely needed to see his case file. Just maybe, there was something in the file correlating to his fractured dreams of a _dark moonlit night, a feeling of falling ... needing to crawl out of a dark ... maybe a shallow ... grave_? His stomach churned at the thought and he wobbled as he walked, nearly losing his balance, rudely shoving that terrible thought away. A better question might be figuring out the reason behind his strange uneasiness around uniformed officers. Or was it the gold of the ... _badge_?

Completely distracted with his ideas, Danny accidentally careened off a doorway. _Hard_. Pain ricocheted though his bad arm and he gasped out loud, seeing stars.

"Shit! _Shit_ ... owe!" Danny yelped, then hissed in pain. " _Crap_." He sucked in a breath of air over his teeth, using his arm to dab away a brief spate of tears from his eyes before blinking wildly, surprised at where he now was. Cursing under his breath again, he rocked to a dizzying stop in the kitchen, holding his aching arm and wondering how the hell he'd gotten there when he'd just been in the living room. He was doing it all over again. If he wasn't berating himself over his empty head, he was getting lost in what he thought he did know about that night. _The moon, the white fluff of clouds ... the pain he'd been in_. Snippets of things - maybe the dim timbre of a voice or two - all of which could be entirely fabricated by his fusty, damaged brain.

Steve had been urging him time and again to stop playing detective; to let him and the others take care of things. Swearing that they'd find the unsubs responsible. Danny was still rolling his eyes at that charming piece of advice. How do you tell a Detective not to be a _detective_ , even if he was suffering from amnesia? Certain things were simply ingrained in ones very fibers. It was precisely why he couldn't turn off his own brain as if it were damned light switch! Besides, he owned this faint memory and parts of it had to be valid as he circled back round to that one last question he'd posed to himself. _About himself_.

_If I'm a cop, why am I afraid of the uniform?_

He needed to go into the office. That was the only answer he had for himself and he damned sure insist upon it when Steve came home. Which Danny knew he would - maybe very soon, in fact. Until then though and with a disgusted, self-deprecating snort for his clumsiness, Danny re-started his aimless wanderings, trying to remember at least the things in his house. This home he shared with Steve. Touching this. Poking at that. Willing himself to remember anything … something of their life together. After a time though when the dull throb of his head threatened in earnest, he had to quit.

Moody and over-tired, he found himself out on the lanai where he wound up standing, facing the ocean. Danny closed his eyes, his face turned upwards towards the sun, consoling himself with the most basic of truths.

_Grace. Charlie. He'd loved them on sight. They each loved him back with a reckless abandon._

_Steve loved him._

_He loved Steve._

This was who they were. Partners. At work … at home. Danny's family absorbed into Steve once solitary life to make one comfortable and very content whole. Danny could never walk away from that, no matter the circumstances. Lost in those pleasant thoughts, Danny never heard the front door open or the faint footsteps coming through the kitchen and then out to the lanai.

"Everything okay?" Steve's voice startled Danny from behind a millisecond before his hands settled comfortably on Danny's shoulders. Warm, soothing.

"Freaking ninja," Danny groused, already forgiving Steve for the not so impromptu visit as Steve draped himself over Danny like a blanket, reeling him in backwards into the safe harbor of his arms.

"I'm not," Steve replied with mock indignation. "You were just a million miles away. _Again_. What have I told you about dwelling, _huh_?"

"You should be at work," Danny admonished weakly after a distracting kiss was planted on the top of his head, another on his cheek. "Catching the bad guys. Keeping the island safe for my kids, Steven."

"I missed you," Steve said without apology, his chin now resting comfortably on top of Danny's head, making Danny wonder if he was offended … or not … by that.

"You're going to have a helluva big issue running 5-0 if you can't make it through the second full day of work," Danny pointed out glibly. He continued to stare out at the ocean, focused dumbly at the silhouette of a lone sea-kayaker, trying to ignore the heated warmth of the body wrapped around him.

"I just came home for lunch, Danno," Steve said. "Make sure you were okay."

" _Lunch_? You said that yesterday," Danny reminded him as he felt a blush spread up his neck to his cheeks. "Lunch became … _something else_ and well. Things happened, didn't they. But you never _actually_ made it back to work. So I was thinking ... about today ..."

"Funny thing there, Danno," Steve interrupted with a sly, soft laugh. "I don't quite recall hearing any complaints from you ... _yesterday_." Behind him, Danny swore he could literally feel the smirk spreading across his partner's face.

"We have time," Steve virtually cooed in his ear. "Besides ... I'm the _boss_ , remember?"

"Steven, because you _are_ the _boss_... you have half the force setting up camp in our front yard. Now, let go ...," Danny sighed patiently as Steve refused to allow him to budge an inch out of his arms. "Nothing's going to happen in a controlled environment. And frankly, police work usually works better if you're actually _in_ the field … trying to find the bad guys. You need to be visible. So, I was going to suggest ... about _today_ ..."

" _Shhh..._ stop talking," Steve interrupted again, he merely tucked his head back under his chin. "I'm enjoying the moment, Danno."

Danny winced, his expression became a bit more alarmed as Steve hugged him closer. If anything, Steve's hips had taken up a little to and fro sway of their own, disconcerting at best when Danny was still stuck inside the circle of Steve's arms.

"Steven, let go …" Danny wriggled, gaining only another kiss on his temple in lieu of winning the subtle battle of wills. "I ... _uh_ , and Charlie ... he'll be here ... soon."

"Soon ... isn't _now_. Soon is 3:30 this afternoon and it's barely Noon," Steve whispered softly as he snuggled Danny more deeply by criss-crossing their arms into a mutual hug. "And you need to stop thinking so hard; you'll remember. When the time is right … you'll remember Danno. Stop trying so hard; it's only been a couple of weeks."

"A couple of weeks of pure hell," Danny objected as he gave another wriggle in a vain attempt to break out of their bear hug. He bit his lips, breathed in a lungful of air and tried to ignore Steve's overwhelming pull on his libido. Evidently, his body sure hadn't forgotten a damned thing about their relationship even if his brain was dead-empty.

"So," Danny started and then nearly stopped breathing as Steve sucked a wet circle on his neck. He could do this. _He could._ " _Umm_. As I was going t-to say ...s-so, Steve ... office. I w-wanted ... _yeah_."

"Oh, I see...," Steve purred softly into his ear. "This is hell, is it? If I remember it right, _this_? _This_ ... was your idea yesterday, buddy. I was the one who didn't want to take advantage of you ... or your ... damaged psyche."

"D-damaged?" Danny breathed out as Steve increased that swaying motion. He made an embarrassed face as a soft thud/bump was added to the rhythm. He cleared his throat to stifle a moan, wriggling his own hips in a vain attempt to gain space; that idea a bad one as Steve dropped his lips to a particularly sensitive spot on Danny's neck, just below his ear.

"Stop thinking so hard," Steve whispered. "I think you need a distraction and what I'm thinking about is much more fun. Definitely way more fun than going into the _office_ , Danno. Trust me." He rolled his hips even more seductively, bumping Danny gently from behind before wrapping him up like an octopus. Danny did moan then as one hand began a wayward search of his chest, those lithe fingers sinking down low towards the apex of his sweatpants.

" _Shud'up... l'eggo,"_ Danny stammered brokenly, stuck when his head wound up resting against the breadth of Steve's shoulder. " _W-work_."

"This _is_ work," Steve said through a series of kisses and soft caresses. "I'm helping you remember; work through your issues."

Danny closed his eyes, his knees beginning to soften and wanting to buckle. He lost his balance, dizzy for an entirely new reason, Steve easily bracing him against his chest. "Steve ..." he said as he closed his eyes, seeing stars behind his lids. The problem was - _there was no problem_ \- when it came to Danny's attraction to Steve.

 _"N-nn-'nderthal,_ " Danny whispered brokenly as he was manhandled around, still snug into Steve's chest, his arms trapped there between them. He squinted back up into those dark, azure eyes before giving in. Before he simply raised himself up on his tiptoes to nip at Steve's lips while a soft voice flit through his head. _Happy. Content._ Reminding him that this was who they were.

Love at first sight. Karma. The meddling Hawaiian Menehune at their very finest.

"Lunch ...office ... just ... _but_ ," Danny murmured stupidly, his dismal excuses fading away one by one. " _Charlie_ ..."

" _Shhh_. Later," Steve whispered as he kissed each reason away. "We have time."

Danny's voice trailed off as he got lost in Steve's eyes and an indulgent smile, not at all bothered that his partner was once again, preening like a peacock.

_**~ to be continued ~** _


	8. Chapter 8

**H** **5O* H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O**

 

As he wiped a bead of sweat off his brow, Kenny looked out the third floor window of the men's room at the Palace and did a shocked double-take.

"Shit," he whispered. "Shit. _Fuck_. Hey, RJ, you're _boyfriend's_ here."

"My _what_? Whaddaya talkin' bout, buddy boy?" RJ replied distractedly, the disgust for his job obvious in the tone of his voice. He was in a foul mood; busy cleaning the urinals and none too happy about losing their coin-toss for the honors of the distasteful task. "I want to get this over with ... waves are hittin' big. Get your ass back over here and help me out."

RJ despised cleaning the men's room. They both did. But it was RJ's least favorite _job_ in the Maintenance Department of the Honolulu Police Department and he was mad as hell that he'd lost that day's coin-toss to Kenny. He also preferred to call himself a _Facilities Specialist_ and not the ordinary janitor title that he really was by trade.

As if either of them even _had_ a trade, Kenny often mockingly thought to himself. He didn't dare say that out loud. RJ would probably beat the crap out of him if he knew half the things Kenny sometimes thought about. Nonetheless, Kenny knew a lot about RJ's likes and dislikes because he heard RJ's complaints just about every single hour, of every single damned day. In fact, since they'd grown up together, Kenny couldn't remember a time when RJ hadn't been complaining about one thing or another.

But, just then even with RJ becoming madder than a hornet, Kenny just couldn't tear his eyes away from the parking lot. If RJ was mad at him for not doing his job right then, he was going to be downright pissed when he saw who was coming into the building.

"RJ, I'm _serious_ , man!" Kenny repeated nervously. "You gotta see who it is ... you just gotta! What the _fuck_ is he doing here?! I thought you said he'd ..."

"Jesus! Shut up Kenny!" RJ cursed as he kicked the industrial orange wringer-mop bucket out of his way, dirty water sloshing inside, before he joined Kenny by the window. "What the hell is it Kenny ... who the hell are you talking about? I just want to get the hell out of here and ...," he paused, his next words bitten out on a rush of whispered air.

"... _fuck me_."

His mouth closed with a snap then, cutting off any more of his angry words. As he stood next to him, Kenny felt RJ stiffen as he looked out the window. Next to him, RJ had literally frozen in place, barely breathing, the expression on his face a dangerous one, his hands tightly fisted.

"See. See it's him ... how can it be him?" Kenny asked breathlessly, gesturing wildly down to the big blue pickup truck which had just parked in the first row of the lot. Two men had gotten out, one blond and one brunet. Even from the distance, Kenny knew exactly who they were and one definitely shouldn't be _here_ ... not any more. This wasn't good. Not at all and Kenny began to shake. This was RJ's fault and his freaking obsession with a handsome man who didn't even know that RJ shared his airspace.

"Shit, RJ! What are you going to do about it, _huh_?"

"Yeah, I see ... I see him!" RJ just about shouted in anger, his face now crimson from a heated flush. "I fucking _see_ him, Kenny!"

"So what are you gonna do about it?! You... you said ... _you said_ that things would work out," Kenny hissed between clenched teeth. "T-his is a-all y-your f-fault." He stammered badly, rubbing hard at the rock-like lump which had scarily settled inside his chest. His eyes were riveted to the two men walking into the Palace until he couldn't see them anymore as they hit the sidewalk directly below and for a minute, he could barely breathe.

"T-that d-doesn't look _worked out_ t-to me ...," he spouted inelegantly after taking a deep breath which did no good at all because his voice was still shaking. He backed up, scared to death because he didn't know what to do. "Now what, RJ? N-now w-what are you g-going t-to do, _huh_?!"

"I dunno! He shouldn't _be_ here!" RJ shouted, his voice echoing loudly in the small, tiled room. Hands in his hair, RJ whirled around and kicked the mop bucket viciously out of his way, sending it nearly toppling over onto its side, splattering puddles of filthy water across the tiled floor. It clattered and heaved as it sought traction on the slick tile, the mop barely hanging on inside the ringer's basin.

"Hey! Keep it down!" Kenny squeaked brokenly, eyes wide at RJ's violent reaction. He looked nervously towards the door to the restroom, eyes wide and scared. Positive he heard voices approaching. "Someone's going to hear ... suppose they hear?!"

"I don't care! Let them fucking hear!" RJ replied nastily and Kenny looked down as RJ took over. "Just shut up and let me think."

Used to taking orders from RJ, Kenny knew he needed to shut up now because RJ was on the very verge of an explosion. One of monumental proportions which he might pay the price for, so he didn't dare say a word like he'd been told. Instead, he looked at the floor, as he trembled and waited. For a minute things were quiet, the only sound in the room that of RJ's ragged breathing while he thought about what they were going to do.

"You're not exactly blame free either. Are you Kenny," RJ spat out at him suddenly. "Just remember. If I go down, then you're going down with me, buddy boy. We go down together. Don't you ever forget that Kenny. Keep your damned mouth shut and just wait for my say-so. Once I come up with a plan, I'll take care of things."

Afraid to directly look up from an interesting piece of broken floor tile, Kenny felt RJ's cold eyes staring him down, daring him to argue. But Kenny couldn't argue back, because RJ was totally right ... even if what was happening was entirely RJ's fault in the first place. But Kenny didn't dare say that out loud either. Instead, he bit his lip to keep quiet.

"Clean up that fucking mess, buddy boy," RJ growled out at him. "Get it done ... we gotta get out of here. Finish our shift and go home ... I need to _think_."

There was water everywhere from the mop bucket and it didn't matter that RJ had made the mess. Kenny always had to do what RJ said; he always had to clean up his messes. So, Kenny nervously jerked a nod as he took the extra time to put the yellow "Caution Wet Floor" sign out and got to work, picking up the mop and pulling the bucket closer to himself. Head down, afraid to acknowledge RJ anymore than he had to as RJ continually muttered a string of unintelligible words over and over again, Kenny focused on getting everything cleaned up.

He was almost done when he did hear voices out in the hallway. Real voices that were coming closer. Kenny worked even faster, sweat beading his forehead now as he rushed to do what RJ had told him to do so they could clock out for the day. But with the mop bucket rolling in front of him, he still nearly bumped into the two men on the way out of the men's restroom while they were coming in.

Kenny felt his stomach twist into knots as he accidentally skimmed shoulders with the 5-0 Commander.

"'S-scuse me," he mumbled, head down and needing to give way to both. "S-sorry ... s-sorry. M'done."

"No harm. Hey, how-ya doin'?," the brunet said with a friendly grin as he squeezed by, one hand anchored to his partner's shoulder, piloting him through the door.

"F-fine, yeah," Kenny mumbled more brokenly, wincing because he sensed RJ smoldering in fury next to him. He could smell the Commander as they passed by each other and he almost closed his eyes. That heady scent which RJ couldn't seem to get enough of, affecting him now too, and Kenny had to look then. He looked the Commander up and down as quickly as he could. Cataloging everything about the handsome face within that instant.

 _Seeing_ the man's hand placed just so on his Second in Command's shoulder ... Kenny's eyes stopped there, momentarily stuck until he realized the 2IC was looking at him.

Kenny cringed inside when his eyes met the blond's quite by accident, and he looked away fast. Next to him, RJ hissed softly between his teeth. _Angry. Furious._

"Hi," the blond said and Kenny paled in response to the man's half-smile. He couldn't even find a word to say because this was all wrong.

 _He shouldn't be here_ ... it was _him_ though. "J-just finishing up ... g-gotta go," Kenny muttered stupidly under his breath as he left, the door juddering closed behind him.

"What the hell's wrong with him?" Danny said as the janitor left the men's room in a rush of noise and sloshing water.

"Who knows ...," Steve replied absently as he stepped away from Danny. He briefly looked around the empty men's room before frowning. " _Huh_."

"What?" Danny asked.

"I thought I heard ...never mind. It's nothing," Steve started to say and then shrugged as he turned towards his partner, beaming happily. "So, hey Danno ... welcome back, buddy!"

"It's the _men's_ room, Steven," Danny snarked incredulously as he spread his arms wide and walked around the Wet Floor sign. "The freaking ... men's room! Really?"

_**~ to be continued ~** _


	9. Chapter 9

 

**H** **5O* H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O**

 

Arms folded tightly across his chest and shoulders squared, Steve stood slightly behind Danny as he sat at his desk in the 5-0 offices. They'd already made their sojourn through the ranks of HPD, getting re-introduced and saying their hellos. Something which had been difficult for Danny. Not meeting the _people_ per se, but just walking into the HPD precinct and seeing so many _blue_ _uniforms_ had prompted an emotional reaction. That had made his confident step stutter to a brief stop before he recovered with a nervous smile and a polite nod. But the normally verbose Detective hadn't so much as uttered a single word. He'd stuck to Steve's side the entire time, taking cues from him on who was friend versus acquaintance. Cautious, untrusting and on edge, it was apparent to Steve that Danny had reverted to that suspicious head space he'd been in back on the Big Island. He was also looking for someone or something of import.

And for his part, Steve was doing the same even if from a slightly different vantage point. Steve had not only watched Danny like a hawk and been there for him, he'd gauged every single uniformed officer in the building, too. One by one, face by face, both those he knew and didn't know. They all were weighed and measured. Steve had purposefully widened his net and had taken a suspicious stance of his own, looking for anyone or anything which seemed out of the ordinary.

He'd seen nothing though. Witnessed nothing wrong.

Overall, things had gone fairly well and Danny's first visit after weeks of being lost, found and shepherded through a slow recovery, had only been just that - a nice enough visit despite its initial stresses. A warm welcome back to the fold and Danny had managed to soldier on regardless of not being entirely comfortable in their midst.

But if he'd expected to experience some kind of an enlightening moment, it wasn't to be and so, Danny had insisted upon visiting the 5-0 offices. He'd walked around, silent and sober, equally disappointed again. Nothing was familiar. Nothing sparked a distinct memory. The disappointed look on Danny's face had been more than enough for Steve to sit him at his desk, pull up his computer. Help him log into his files and begin what should have been a boring once-over of his own case files.

Standing over him now, Steve was watching Danny navigate his computer with a practiced ease. Something amazingly mundane once he'd helped his partner log in. The only thing Danny couldn't remember were his logon credentials. Everything else seemed to be second nature to him. However, with it now coming up on three hours of obsessive study, Steve was none too pleased with the exercise. Growing more impatient with every passing minute, Steve harrumphed softly under his breath as Danny paged far too diligently though his own case.

Adopting a pained expression, Steve shifted on his feet to remind his partner that he was still there; waiting and wanting to call it quits. But nothing happened. Danny remained entranced by the words on his computer screen and was evidently intending to revisit the entire file as he _alt-controlled_ to a far too familiar page view.

 _Again_. Page by page, sentence by sentence. Apparently, he intended to re-read every word of the damned thing, not once. But twice.

Steve shook his head in frustration. He checked his watch and then finally had to say something or risk being there into the midnight hours.

"Let's call it a day, Danno," he suggested. "It's been three hours. Enough already. Like I told you, there's not much there to begin with and, I hate to say it buddy, but if you were going to remember something, it probably would have happened by now."

He didn't mean to sound so negative and he sighed morosely as Danny's back stiffened in response to his words. He knew how much Danny wanted his past back; Steve just wasn't sure that this would be the right way to find it. Especially after three very long and very tedious hours where Danny risked a migraine brought on my exhaustion and stress. Even just using his eyes so intently on the bright computer screen could trigger an episode and though his partner was generally feeling physically better, all of this was completely unnecessary.

"Hey, I'm sorry ... I didn't mean it that way," Steve offered softly as he unfolded his arms to put one hand on Danny's shoulder to try another tactic. "But Danny, really. Haven't you seen enough?"

"Not yet," Danny muttered, though he did pause long enough to blindly reach up and find Steve's fingers on his shoulder. "Not yet, okay?" He gave Steve's fingers a gentle squeeze just once before letting go to continue typing without so much as breaking his stride. "Five minutes? I just want to see the pictures of the scene."

"You said five minutes, thirty minutes ago," Steve groaned under his breath. "And you've looked at them; a lot. Too much actually."

Danny had indeed seen the pictures of the crime scene. Numerous times. He'd paged through them and the only thing which Steve had noticed was that Danny always paused on one image in particular. A frontal view of the Camaro as it lay upside down, cracked and damaged. What was left of its windshield, spidered into shards of glass. It's once highly polished hood nothing but a crushed mass of black steel, gouged and marred with ugly rents. Even in the photograph though, suspended in time, the car oddly looked like it was alive ... dying, but alive as it smoldered in defiance. Steve hated the picture and couldn't even fully imagine why Danny dwelled on it so; he was afraid to wonder what Danny was thinking each time he stared at it. He'd sit there in silence, his muscles taut and his jaw clenching and unclenching as if he might say something. Yet he'd never provided Steve with a single comment. And every time Steve thought he might ask Danny what was wrong or if he might be remembering something important, his partner would suddenly switch screens back to the main files, breaking his trance with just a few mouse clicks.

Steve cleared his throat nervously, knowing the image carousel by heart and _knowing_ that the damned image was just around the corner.

"Danno, come on ... let's go home. It's the same old stuff. We didn't find anything ... but we will," Steve pressed. "I promise." He rubbed his thumb along that sensitive spot on Danny's neck, leaning over to gently nuzzle that softer portion of skin. He breathed in Danny's light scent and smiled as he nipped and kissed his way along a particular swath near his collarbone. Beneath his kisses, Steve felt Danny shiver in response.

"Come on, babe ... _please,_ " he whispered ever so softly as he teased Danny's skin. "Let's go home."

Danny might have shivered, but he didn't give in and oddly, Steve had to smirk good-naturedly. He trailed his fingers over that spot again, catching the way Danny's face eased ever so slightly and his lips parted. It felt good to have Danny back where he belonged even if it were just for a visit. There were so many good things to be thankful for. Even without his memory, Danny was inherently Danny down to his mannerisms, speech patterns and innate sensibilities. His ridiculous penchant to be so damnably stubborn, just like he was now.

Danny still liked what he liked and was quite adamant when rediscovering something he most certainly did not. Steve was confident though that Danny liked this as he nibbled and licked his way down that sensitive landscape of skin again, winning another set of reactive ripples through Danny's body. He smiled into Danny's neck before he mouthed a wider area and Danny failed at hiding the softest of gasps. He was close to winning this particular battle.

"Danny ... Danny," Steve whispered his partner's name teasingly as he moved his thumb over Danny's warm skin down to his clavicle, that smile in his tone resulting in the softest of Danny's own smiles in turn.

"Just ... five," Danny murmured as he briefly cocked his head to the left to meet Steve's hand. Steve saw his eyes close slowly and then re-open, and he nearly laughed out loud as Danny incredibly ... began to read all over again.

"You bastard," Steve chuffed quietly into his ear. _Stubborn_. Willful and once onto something, like he was now, able to worry something to death to get his way. "Stubborn ... stubborn _bastard_ ," Steve wetly mouthed into his neck while he sunk his fingers down the front of Danny's shirt. _Searching. Seeking._ He stroked Danny's chest with a feather-light touch before boldly twirling a nipple between thumb and forefinger.

"You're down to _four_ now and then I'm pulling the plug myself, Danno."

So caught up in that moment of ardor, Steve nearly missed a new cue since it was buried amongst so many mixed signals. It came out of the blue and was wholly unexpected because Danny's reaction had nothing to do with his calculated set of distractions. Sure he'd shivered down to his toes, given out with another one of his soft moans ... things which Steve had evidently misread. Steve had even distracted himself by that point and he hadn't realized that the damned image of the destroyed Camaro was front and center on the computer screen _again_. But as Steve glanced up now, his soft smile melting away in surprise and disappointment, he picked up on another disturbing change.

Danny was scrolling non-stop through all the images. And not just scrolling at a leisurely pace, but running through a rapid-fire, dizzying view of the image carousel.

"Hey? What's up ... what's wrong?" Steve asked, alarmed. _This wasn't right_ and he felt his stomach do a crazy flip. "Hey!" He gripped Danny's shoulder a bit more sternly, bewildered when Danny completely ignored him. The only thing that happened next was that Danny's breathing completely altered ... and in the worst way possible.

 _Fast. Frenetic._ On the verge of hyperventilating.

Steve had seen the images numerous times, but even he couldn't focus on any one before Danny was moving to the next, then one after, then the one after that. The car stranded on his shell, roof caved in, partly burned, front, rear, side views. They all whizzed by faster than his eye could discern. Then the road, the skid marks, and the ravine... some pictures with people. First responders; even his team. Back to the ravine and then on again. There were over 100 shots in all and Steve was shocked to see the image counter flying by at a startling rate of speed.

"Danny. Danny ... stop," Steve said, blinking wildly to break himself away from the blur of color. " _Danny_!" But Danny's mouse hand was tapping manically on the small device. The soft clicks like the staccato of a typewriter, and under it all was a keening sound. The sound was low and deep, mournful. Steve could literally feel its vibration through his hand. It was a frightening sound almost like a dirge and it took Steve just a second more to identify it as a genuinely terrified moan. He wasn't even sure Danny knew he was doing it.

"All right," Steve said, insistent now that Danny stop. "That's enough ... you've had enough."

But Danny was stuck. Mired in place. Eyes wide and glued to the bright screen, a sheen of moisture sparkled across his upper lip and Steve just reacted.

"Let go ... put it down. Give it to me," Steve demanded as he placed his hand squarely over Danny's with the computer mouse, trapping his fingers under his own. He peeled the mouse out from Danny's hand before leaning over Danny's shoulder to hit the escape key on the keyboard, effectively shutting the app down and backing out to the mundane list of the main case documents.

"L-eave m-me alone," Danny pushed out. His teeth were literally chattering in his head as he tried to get up from the chair. Roughly shoving it backwards, he stumbled over his own two feet when Steve's body stopped him cold.

"No... no! Hey!" Steve was surprised as he grappled with the chair while making a grab for Danny's arm as his partner tried to lurch around the side of the desk, intent on getting away from him. He managed to stop him then, manhandling him back down into the chair, stunned to see how colorless Danny's face had become.

"What the hell's going on?" Steve asked as he hunkered down low, his hands on Danny's knees while he dipped his head to catch Danny's eyes which were flitting everywhere at once. "Talk to me. What the hell just happened?"

"I ... I dunno," Danny finally rasped out. "Maybe." He was shaking. Trembling badly as he sat there, still wanting to leave and unable to even get to his feet by the sheer breadth of Steve's body.

"What ... maybe _what_?" Steve asked.

"It just c-came to me. It's the c-car ... I saw it like that ... I remember that I saw it," Danny managed to whisper. "What does that mean? How can I see it from the outside if I was in it?" His blinked wildly before tapping his own head in anger. Roughly and hard. Upset that the just couldn't get things to make sense and Steve growled at him in warning, grabbing his fingers between his own.

"Stupid ... _stupid_! What the fuck is w-wrong with m-me?!"

"Take it _easy_ ..." Steve demanded. "It's not your fault, Danno." He cupped his hand against Danny's cheek, forcing him to look directly into his face. "Look at me. Calm down and talk to me. Try to tell me what you think you saw ... can you do that?"

"Y-yeah," Danny stammered inanely. He heaved in what sounded like a strangled breath of air and then another, he grappled for Steve's hand, his eyes still wide and frightened. Wanting to leave and stay simultaneously, his expression earnest as he sought to be understood; as he argued with himself to find the right words.

"I ... c-can see it upside down now in my head," Danny panted. "I _remember_ it ... it's like a flash inside my head and I c-can _see_ it all. The windshield was smashed to shit. The driver's side door ... it was open; unhinged and twisted." He shook his head, swallowing hard.

Steve opened his mouth and then forced himself to wait. He didn't like any of this one bit. Danny was slick with sweat, his complexion was ashen and he could barely breathe properly. But he waited even as his own heart started to skip painfully inside his chest. Danny seemed to be remembering something, _but this?_ What his brain had decided to kick in with was traumatic and scaring Steve too.

"I ... I think I was thrown c-clear ... I think ... because I _remember_ it being upside down. The wheels were still spinning so, so _fast_!" Danny coughed breathlessly, willing himself to continue.

"And the smell ... I can still _smell_ it," he whispered, his eyes closing as he winced at some remembered pain. "The _crash_. It was so ... loud. A-and I was part of the car ... w-when it gave up. I felt it ... I _felt_ the whole thing just _give_."

"Danny... ," Steve whispered in stunned disbelief, his eyes wide and dark with worry. " _Shhh_ ... it's over. It's over." He stayed crouched down, balanced on his toes while he insisted that Danny remain seated in his office chair. He kept his hands on Danny's knees, trying to still them as they shook uncontrollably.

"N-no. It's not over," Danny insisted brokenly. A sick little smile flit across his lips as his glassy eyes finally met Steve's directly. "Him. _He_ was there ... _the cop_. He was _there_ ... I saw his badge. The uniform ... and I t-thought he'd help me. But he didn't help. He s-said _s-something_ ... _he laughed_ ... l-like it was some big joke he w-was enjoying ... and then ... I ... after that, it's just black. I can't remember. It's g-gone."

"Him...?" Steve breathed out softly as Danny began to tremble nonstop from top to bottom. _Him. One man ... and he fucking laughed._ _He_ _laughed like it was all a big joke_?

Steve felt his anger spark and then worked hard to tamp it down. While he didn't like what had happened one bit, what Danny was relating to him was a start and it was a very important one despite the ongoing gaps. He couldn't afford to get emotional; not now. Not yet with Danny so very upset and harboring an instinctive reaction to leave ... _to run._

Steve would never push for more; not even on a good day. But if there ever came a time when Danny remembered anything else besides fucking _laughter_... _God help him..._ like hair color, or a _face_ ... _anything at all_ ... and Steve stopped his hateful mental litany as he unconsciously tightened his hands on Danny's jouncing knees. He didn't dare go there now. Not with Danny unraveling right under his very hands.

"I got you ... I got you buddy," he promised as he reached out, pulling Danny up into his arms, upset when Danny unexpectedly fought him. He pushed hard against Steve's arms, his hands and tried to break free, keening in his throat when he failed. As a spike of icy fear settled in the pit of his stomach, Steve wondered if just for a minute, Danny didn't know it was _him_. That _he_ was there.

"Easy ... it's me ... just me," Steve crooned repeatedly as he held his weakly struggling partner to his chest. "Danny ... come on babe. It's me ... just me."

"I ... I n-need t-to go," Danny rasped one as his hands came up to clutch at Steve's forearms. He tried to pull away again before giving up, his head bowed against Steve's chest, panting hard, his knees weak as he leaned heavily into Steve for support.

" _Please_ ..."

" _Nonono_... Danno," Steve whispered as he gently shushed and quieted his partner; gently insisting that he be allowed to help, his own fear knowing no bounds as he felt Danny's heart racing so wildly and a volume of sickly heat leeching off his body. "I'm here. I'm here, buddy. We gotta take baby steps on this. Go slow ... _slow_ down."

In the quiet of Danny's office, Steve pulled him closer to hold him even tighter, rubbing circles over Danny's back, breathing in his fear and willing that the frenetic beating of Danny's heart start to calm. Holding him until he felt another change. A better one which said that Danny was coming back to a type of center.

"You good now?" Steve murmured softly as he placed a kiss to the side of Danny's temple, another to the top of his head.

"W-what if you h-hadn't f-found me?" Danny suddenly hiccuped and stammered as he blindly clung to him, absorbing all the strength which Steve could give. "W-what i-if I d-didn't w-wait for you... or k-knocked on the window to that s-stupid rental car? W-what w-would have h-happened?"

"Ah, Danny ...but that didn't happen. Did it?" Steve breathed out while he closed his eyes and felt all of Danny's fears and uncertainty. _What if though?_ Steve didn't want to think about it. He had actually imagined the terrible answer to that question quietly to himself ... over and over again.

 _What if_ those two officers on the Big Island had seen Danny or recognized him? _What if_ they hadn't made that call to him? _What if ._.. Danny hadn't trusted his instinct and he'd kept running that day?

 _Why the hell had he been attacked in the first place? And why ... just why? Why had Danny been dumped on the Big Island?_ There were far too many damned questions out there.

"None of that happened," Steve whispered again to reassure himself now as much as his partner. Shushing Danny softly, Steve tucked his face into the side of Danny's head and just held him as tightly as he could. "We're always going to be there for each other, babe. _Always_. No matter what."

He soothed Danny and rocked him in place for a long time then. However, Steve was continually making silent promises to himself. Quiet, dangerous vows of retribution. He was in a bad place wanting revenge, but he couldn't help himself. He would find this _cop_ and see just how long he'd laugh then.

 

**H** **5O* H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O**

"I thought we were going _surfing_ ," Kenny whined under his breath. "I've been here too long. Too long! I'm gonna be seen!"

He was sitting in the driver's seat to his old clunker of a car, fidgety as hell. Upset that he was still at the Palace even after clocking out in record time. _Parked_ and just hanging out as if nothing were wrong in the rear-most corner of the parking lot and in the shade of a banyan tree, but it hardly mattered. Kenny could literally feel the sets of a thousand eyes on him.

Someone would see ... someone would _know_.

Kenny tapped the steering column nervously. He didn't know what to do. RJ was there of course. In a murderous mood which was rolling off him in waves, his hateful eyes riveted to the front doors of the building. RJ was there but not talking.

"We could fucking be here all day," Kenny complained as he wiped reams of sweat off his face with the back of his arm. "Just because you want to see your damned ... _boyfriend_."

He was taking a terrible chance antagonizing RJ just then. But Kenny was desperate to leave and petrified about what might come next because it was never good when RJ was _there_ but too silent. Kenny was scared of RJ even more when he was too quiet. It usually meant bad, bad things were about to happen.

And RJ wasn't talking now and it was adding to Kenny's level of stress. He was _there_ , but he wasn't talking or offering Kenny any direction whatsoever, except indicating that he needed to sit there in the damned heat ... and fucking wait.

"It's fucking _hot_ , man," he added for good measure.

Kenny froze a moment later though as two familiar shapes finally ... _finally thank fuck ._.. walked out of the building. Close. Shoulders touching; side by side and Kenny visibly winced as he felt RJ bristle inside with hate. But maybe he could go now ... maybe it was enough?

"Go now... go now. Let's _go_ now," Kenny repeated nervously under his breath as he watched the 5-0 Commander help his partner get into his big pickup truck. "I want to go ... "

Anxious to do just that, his hand was already wrapped around the ignition switch waiting for RJ's say-so. He'd been there way too long and was taking a terrible chance.

 _It was RJ's fault though_. He just had to see certain things for himself. But Kenny would never say that out loud. He'd pay if RJ knew half the things he thought about inside his head. When RJ was _there_ ... he was in charge. He called the shots and Kenny had to listen and do what RJ said no matter how much he might be scared or hated it.

"RJ ..." Kenny whined as the pickup truck backed out of its space, disappearing onto the main streets of Honolulu. He wanted to leave but he waited until RJ shifted just enough. Only then did Kenny rev the engine of his old car, praying that no one saw him slowly chugging out of the lot.

_**~ to be continued ~** _


	10. Chapter 10

**H** **5O* H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O**

 

Kenny stood at full attention in front of his full-length mirror. Chin held high and shoulders squared, he looked damned good if he had to say so himself. Blue was his color. His mother used to say that to him and now, he knew how very right she was. He sucked in his gut and flashed himself a wide smile. Yeah, he looked damned good. The deep navy complimented his tan and made his hair look even blacker, more sleek. His eyes took on a darker shade of hazel, too. He picked an imaginary piece of lint off his sleeve as he smoothed down the heavy fabric, wincing when he connected with the bandage on his forearm. RJ had cut him up good after their shift ended. He'd sliced a thin line in his arm. _Deep_ , but not deep enough for stitches.

Kenny forced himself to forget about what had happened earlier. He had more important things to do as he went back to staring at himself in the mirror. The box had arrived from the mainland and now, he was as geared up as he could be. He'd hit the jackpot on EBay and the official police grade tactical utility belt really finished off his ensemble. He laughed out loud, completely pleased with how he looked. You could really buy just about anything now-a days. The only thing he lacked was a real gun; but the heavy toy on his waist looked good enough to fool many. Hell, there were reports of kids getting killed all the time for pointing them at people they looked so damned real.

He stood taller and turned to the side to look at his profile. More than pleased with the results. There was something about a man in uniform, his mother would say with a light giggle. That was why she'd married his father. Captain Ralph Ingraham, Jr., Pilot. U.S. Air Force.

 _A man in uniform._ A uniform signified so much. Confidence. Bravery. Respect.

Right then, Kenny thought he looked damned good in that HPD uniform. He looked chic. Polished ... and _smart_. Kenny grinned happily at his reflection and nodded. Yeah, he looked _polished_. He thought he looked ... handsome. He would comfortably be able to stroll the mall that evening, wrists clasped behind his back, with a smile or nod towards the tourists. He'd make an impression. He could comfort the occasional lost child just like he had last week.

Kenny stood so much taller at that memory, that his back audibly cracked. He still felt so damned good about that save! The parents had thanked him profusely. _"Thank you, Officer Ingraham ... thank you!"_

Then the little girl had given him a hug, right around his neck. She'd wrapped her arms around him with a careless abandon; her tears had dried up as he treated her to a shave ice. Her smile ... her hug ... and all of that special attention ... had been well worth effort. As well as the risk of being found out.

"Officer Ingraham," Kenny murmured happily under his breath. It sounded good. _He_ looked good. Tonight would even be better. He could practically feel it. Tonight, maybe he could prevent a theft. If he was lucky, and Kenny felt a charge of excitement at the mere thought of it ... maybe even ... _save a life_.

Something like that would bring down even more attention on his head - not all of it potentially good. But if he saved a _life_ ... maybe ...

 _"Too bad you had to steal all of that, buddy boy."_ An evil distant voice intoned and Kenny grimaced unhappily at the interruption. _"Mommy wouldn't like that fact at all now would she? You lied to her about the police academy ... your job ... you're nothing but a fucking janitor. What would mommy think of her perfect little boy if she were here now and knew the truth, huh? Bits n pieces ... a little bit here ... some more there ... the locker room. A shirt; a pair of shoes. Even the fucking dry cleaning rack ... you're a loser ... and a thief."_

"Shut up," Kenny said out loud as RJ began to cackle closer, Kenny's voice rising to drown out RJ's until he was finally screaming in the otherwise quiet of his bedroom.

"Shut up - _shut up_! _SHUT UP!"_

He was supposed to have a lot more time before RJ began to knock. The whole damned night in fact! Kenny grimaced and fisted his hands until his knuckles turned white. He was afraid because RJ was coming too soon; much too soon! He shook his head to dispel the wave of dizziness that always precipitated RJ's arrival. It wasn't fair. Thursday nights were his night. It was their agreement. It was Kenny's turn to do what he wanted. It was his time to prowl the streets as if it were Halloween.

But RJ was angry and when he was angry, Kenny couldn't stop him from showing up. When he wanted something - no, when he wanted _someone_ \- as desperately as he did now, there was no stopping RJ. _Ever_. And if he said no ... _if Kenny refused_ , he'd cut him again.

"No, no. Not now," he mumbled desperately to his reflection, praying that RJ would just leave him alone. He was afraid as RJ came closer still, whispering at him in disgust. He was _coming_ whether Kenny wanted him to or not. Their Thursday night agreement was now officially nullified. Still, Kenny tried to push him back harder. One last plea on his lips while he held his head in his hands, his fingers wending tightly though his hair, risking RJ's terrible temper.

"RJ ... please. _Please_ ... not now. Tomorrow ... okay?"

RJ had fucked up with the Detective. Not him, even though RJ had been constantly attacking him ever since. Verbally ... and then, he'd cut him. Something he hadn't done in a long, long time. But Kenny had only done what he'd been told. It wasn't his fault that Detective Williams was still alive or that the Commander didn't even know RJ existed. Kenny had followed RJ's instructions to the letter. He'd even taken his father's old private plane that incredibly long distance to the Big Island. His own license long revoked, credentials stolen from his deceased father, filing a mostly bogus flight plan, Kenny had made the trip in record time and disposed of the grievously injured man's body.

RJ had _made_ him take those risks.

That blond detective shouldn't be here anymore ... he should have died. But he didn't and it wasn't Kenny's fault!

Kenny closed his eyes wincing as RJ came closer to stand next him. He was breathing funny. He could hear himself beginning to wheeze in panic. But he had to look and when Kenny looked in the mirror again, RJ was there by his side, a sneer parting his lips. _Then he laughed._ Mocking how he looked in the HPD uniform, calling him a _fucking wannabe_ , the sound of his laughter grating and harsh.

"So, buddy boy ... what say you we have a bit of fun tonight? The room's ready," RJ breathed out, his breath fogging the mirror. Kenny felt the color drain from his face. _The room?_

Kenny shook his head in denial, his sense of panic rising. "Why not Williams again? Why not finish him off?"

"Because I'm tired of waiting and I _want_ ... Steve," came RJ's lusty whisper. "Fuck Williams ... he's done. He can't remember shit and the room is ready."

 _The room ... was it ready? Was he ready?_ "But ...RJ? Should we ...?" Kenny choked out. He was terrified as RJ smiled, his teeth shining whitely in the mirror. He couldn't say no. It didn't matter that RJ needed Kenny to drive, to pilot the plane like his father had taught him to do. It didn't matter at all that RJ needed Kenny most of the time to carry out his plans. RJ was in charge and he called the shots. If Kenny didn't listen ... RJ would hurt him with the razor blade like he always did.

_Like he always had._

Instead of refusing, Kenny's last breath ended on a noise that sounded like a helpless sob. He reached out as if in a trance to touch the moisture left behind by RJ's breath. To run his fingers through the dampness as RJ groaned longingly in his throat. Kenny was thinking _no_ , but RJ was talking again, insistent and demanding. Pushing and twisting ... making Kenny be the puppet who he was.

"Yes. _Yes_. It's time for Steve to come home now, buddy boy. I _want_ him."

 

 **H** **5O* H5O***

Fully clothed, Steve lay on his side in their bed, propped up on his elbow. He was watching Danny sleep. At least, he'd thought Danny was sleeping until Danny's overly warm fingers blindly latched onto to his wrist. Then Danny was squinting up at him, looking miserable, the effects of the migraine still lingering, and that same apology still laced across his face.

"M'sorry," Danny muttered. He blinked sluggishly, slow to focus too well on Steve's face. "Screwed up . _.. but the car ._.. it's in my head now."

"I know. I know and it's fine," Steve whispered down to him with a gentle smile. "It's okay and you've got nothing to be sorry about; things are going to be okay. Go back to sleep for a little while. I'm going down to make us something to eat."

Danny heaved in a weary breath of air, filling his lungs, before shaking his head to the contrary. He winced at the ill-timed motion, swallowed hard and groaned. "Hmm... no," Danny pushed out softly. "No ... food."

"What's wrong?" Steve whispered. "Still sick ... that bad?"

"No. Only ... m'not hungry. Tired," Danny murmured as he fought his eyes' urge to close. "Why don't you go ... for a swim? Eat later?" His eyes were a glassy blue color and he could hardly focus on Steve's face. After the event in the office, his head had begun to throb with a vengeance and by the time they'd made it home, Danny had managed to empty his stomach a number of very painful times. Trundled into bed, the room darkened from the late day sun, Steve had only managed to get a dose of his most strongest meds into him. But their side-effects were telling and as Danny inhaled deeply again, his eyes were already closing.

"A swim?" Steve repeated in surprise. "You sure?" He'd love for nothing more than to purge his mind ... his muscles were thrumming with pent up tension. But he hadn't dared left Danny's side after he'd been so out of sorts. So incredibly sick, allowing the migraine to sap his energy like a bad sponge.

" _Yeah_. You like that ... watery... stuff. Go ..." Danny mumbled softly. "M'tired. Sleep." There was a final squeeze made to Steve's wrist and then his fingers were falling lax. His breath had evened out again and Steve snorted softly under his breath, a fond smile on his face.

"Sleep," He whispered softly as he leaned over to lovingly kiss Danny's forehead before he rolled cleanly out of the bed. "Be back in about an hour, babe."

Steve changed quickly and then checked on Danny just one more time, reassured when he saw that Danny was indeed back within a very sound sleep. Then, before he left the house, he checked on the unit in the road, locked the doors and made two phone calls.

The first to that unit advising of his plans; the second, to Chin and Kono asking that they contact forensics about the Camaro. He wanted more answers. He wanted to know if the seatbelt on the driver's side had malfunctioned or been so badly damaged that Danny might have been thrown from the demolished vehicle. Or, as Steve was beginning to suspect, had something else happened entirely?

 _Him ... the laugh... a joke._ Steve narrowed his eyes in anger as he ended the call and strode out over the lanai to his beach.

He wanted evidence. He wanted a name.

_**~ to be continued ~** _


	11. Chapter 11

 

**H** **5O* H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O**

 

Danny came half aware out of a deep sleep still immersed on the tails of an intense nightmare. A knee juddered and then a muscular ripple flowed through Danny's tense shoulders. He kicked out when his whole body jerked wildly as if falling, and he partially woke, drenched in sweat. Lost and confused. Not sure he could hear; not sure he could see it was so dark. With his brain not cooperating at all, Danny juddered hard again. Gasping and utterly turned around. He didn't know where he was or what he was supposed to do. For the life of him, he couldn't think at all. He made a sound though. Lying there on his side, his eyes only just partly opened and yet not really seeing the wall of the bedroom, he mewled in his throat.

 _"Come on. Someone had to have seen! Hurry it up!"_ The voices were inside his head and he was stuck inside the nightmare of the car crash. He was stuck there, not seeing the master bedroom, _but the steaming, crumpled heap of metal that used to be his car._

_He'd unbuckled himself and dragged himself clear of it. He'd been on an incline though, facing the wrong way, wracked with pain. He'd scrabbled out on his belly just so far until gravity rolled him a good many feet away from the wreck. He could see it then, upside down, smoking. Its wheels were still turning while it lay stranded on its back like some damaged turtle. The smell … he could smell all of it. The foul odor of burned out rubber, hot metal on metal … the burning stink was stuck in his nose._

_He saw a shapes in his mind's eye. Heard their - no - his words. No. He didn't understand. Saw? … Yes, he saw the glint of gold. Babbled in a moment of relief. A dark blue uniform. A badge. But … no … but? Danny instinctively knew this officer wasn't there to help him, but he was too injured to protect himself. Too dazed to understand all of it._

_Voices. Words. Speech._

_"RJ, are you s-sure?"_

_A name._ Was it real? Had that _happened_?

_"Get him up! I don't care about the blood…I want him gone. I want McGarrett looking in all the wrong places."_

Danny choked and bit back a moan of remembered pain as he roused outside of his nightmare. Or memory? Was this real ... had it been real? H _e'd been grabbed up, dragged away to a van. He'd lost time. Blacked out from pain and shock. Heard things he didn't understand. Felt nothing but a mind-numbing pain._

_Airplane. Small. Loud. Its overly strong vibrations reverberating through his battered body. The tonal hum deafening him, pushing him back under in a torrent of pain. Then after ... the same voices in his head - over his head - that horrible sensation of his broken body being dragged, moved and his pain being mocked._

_"He won't survive this. He'll be dead by morning … that'll teach him to fuck with me."_

_"RJ ... what if we get caught?"_

_"Shut up, you stupid ... idiot! No one is going to ever know!"_

_His clothes had been stripped from his body. Wallet, badge, ID … all gone._

_"H-help m-me …" he breathed out his plea to his persecutor, blood on his lips. In his mouth. But the pain only kept coming. His head had been pulled back by the roots of his hair, only half-aware and snorting up even more bloody phlegm, Danny saw the dim profile of a man in front of him._

_Sleek dark hair. Dark eyes. White teeth gleaming in the moonlight._

_HPD uniform perfectly fitted. So, so clean. Too clean. Too perfect. Wrong. It was all so wrong._

_Hang on buddy-boy," the snide voice jested just before he'd been shoved. "Steve ain't ever gonna find your body way the hell out here. And by the time_ _someone … might … there ain't gonna be 'nuthin left to ID. And by then ... Steve will be with me. He'll be mine. You won't even be a fucking memory."_

_He'd been pushed hard. Maybe even kicked. Had it mattered by that point? There had been a brief sensation much like floating before he'd hit the ground. A white hot bolt of pain had seared his head … his chest … and then he just kept falling._ _Dizzying. Sickishly flopping along in a nonstop spiral of pain. Head over heels. Picking up speed. His arms and legs flying like a rag doll through the air as he windmilled helplessly away into the pitch of night._

With a terrified whine stuck inside his chest, Danny crawled himself forward and went so far as to fall out of the bed, all of the bedding gone with him. Legs entangled in the material, he hit the floor hard on his shoulder.

"RJ." Danny opened his eyes wide as he whispered a name to a darkened bedroom. "RJ."

He couldn't shake the terror twisting his chest and scuttled to his feet, off-balance, still confused. The silence of a deadened house surrounded him. It was late. He could sense it. Something was terribly wrong and a sour taste of bile flooded his throat. He had a name and maybe even a reason. Where was Steve?

_Steve will be with me. He'll be mine._

Danny stumbled forward, his hand out-stretched towards the door, driven by desperation. "Steve?" Hardly carrying at all, his voice was weakened by sleep and now terror as he made his way down the stairs to the main floor.

"Steve?" It was far too quiet and Danny was about to find a weapon, get a gun, call for ... _help_ ... until he saw him. Outside on the lanai, Longboard in hand, by the grill. Danny choked back a noise of indescribable relief, tears welling in his eyes no matter how hard he tried to argue just how scared he was. He blindly walked forward, sliding the doors opened, only to wend his arms around Steve's middle, burying his face in the safety of Steve's back.

"Hey, how'd you sleep?" Steve said as Danny trapped him from behind, leaving only his hands free, greasy spatula held high, the last half of the burgers nearly cooked through.

Face buried in Steve's back, Danny breathed in deeply, his tears soaking into the damp fabric of Steve's shirt. Steve hadn't taken a shower yet from his swim and he smelled like salt, seawater, and sweat. He smelled like _Steve_ ... and Danny couldn't get enough of it. He rubbed his forehead into the space between Steve's shoulder blades, loosening his hold just enough for Steve to turn within the circle of his arms.

"Sleep okay?" Steve asked, a smile in his tone. "Just in time to eat something."

Danny barely heard the words, he was lost in the scent that was Steve. In the feel of those big hands which were gently roaming the expanse of his back, cupping the back of his head before gently carding through his already mussed hair. Danny absorbed the soothing circles of warmth as Steve caressed his back again while pressing a few kisses to the side of his head.

"Headache gone?" The words meant nothing yet. Unable to speak, Danny nodded though and might have even mumbled something. With a ferocious intensity, he hugged Steve tightly to himself until he found the wherewithal to walk his fingers up under the t-shirt, rucking it up, forcing it over Steve's head. Throwing it aside. He wanted more.

"I love you," Danny rasped out, his voice still wrecked by sleep and fear. His fingers tickled over Steve's skin, trailing everywhere while he briefly rested his forehead against his bare chest.

"Danny?" Steve was confused now, his smile had wavered. Rather than answering, Danny kissed what he could reach and then nipped upwards at his chin, reaching higher for Steve's lips, tasting and kissing his way along the ridge of that strong jaw. His hands wandered over the planes of his chest, his shoulders. Gentle but persistent. He wanted to be close ... _needed_ to be close ... to Steve ...as he licked that salty, sweat-sweetened ridge of Steve's collarbone.

"I l-love you," he whispered again, his voice breaking. He had no idea that he was crying until Steve cupped his face to stop him from continuing, his thumbs swiping tracks of wetness away across his cheeks.

"I love you too," Steve murmured softly. "What's wrong, Danno? What's happened?"

Danny didn't know that he'd been nearly keening Steve's name repeatedly until Steve softly shushed him and kissed him back fully, deeply. Understanding that something had happened and that Danny just needed for him to be there. He had no idea that he'd said anything even remotely intelligible until Steve kissed each of his tear-stained eyelids, then his nose, before he cupped his face again, tilting it upwards. His expression was attentive, his hands gentle, but his tone was serious. Cautious.

"Danny, what did you remember?" Steve was whispering now. "Who the hell is RJ? Is it ... _him?_ "

Danny swallowed hard as he tried to nod while still bracketed by the warmth of Steve's hands, those thumbs still sweeping the moisture away from his eyes. "What else?" Steve pushed gently, his face now almost unreadable.

"H-he w-wants y-you... I think h'he's coming for y-you," Danny choked out.

_**~ to be continued ~** _


	12. Chapter 12

 

**H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O**

 

Feet dragging, Kenny reluctantly walked to RJ's special room and then just stood there. He didn't want to go in. He hated the room and everything which RJ had done to it.

 _His fault. Not Kenny's ... not this time. No way. No how._ He never wanted this at all.

Shoulders slouched, head bowed, he could already feel the nervous sweat trickling down his back. Maybe RJ would leave him alone and he could stick to his original plans. If allowed, he just knew that he'd be better able to do what RJ wanted later or even tomorrow. But if Kenny couldn't convince him of that and if RJ forced him to continue, then he should have at least been given some time to change out of his policeman's uniform.

As sweat began to leak more persistently down his back, Kenny grimaced unhappily. He was going to ruin the uniform and then he'd have to take it to the dry cleaners. Plus, he'd risk being seen with the uniform not just once to drop it off, but a second time when he had to pick it up and pay for it. He might even be asked a question or two about why he had it and he wasn't sure he could come up with a reasonable answer. And whatever might happen after that? That would _really_ be RJ's fault and they could lose everything!

"Shit," Kenny mumbled to himself. Though he knew the day would eventually come, he really didn't want to deal with RJ's obsessive plan to bring McGarrett home to their house. So he stood there for a long time, outside what used to be his parents master bedroom, just waiting to see what RJ might do. Maybe he'd change his mind; or get nervous. Maybe RJ would remember their Thursday night agreement and cut him some slack for a change. But Kenny snorted sarcastically under his breath.

 _Cut him?_ Yeah, RJ had cut him good for screwing up over the stupid detective. No doubt RJ would do it again if he waited much longer outside the room. Nonetheless with RJ staying silent, Kenny couldn't help pushing the envelope.

He breathed in and then out, counted to ten and still waited. RJ said nothing. He didn't say a word. Kenny relaxed a bit and began to absently finger the two keys, rocking back and forth on his toes. Wondering if he could just leave. Until RJ hissed at him in a furor and he nearly dropped the keys in shock.

"What the fuck are you waiting for! Open the fucking door you idiot!"

Fumbling for the first lock, Kenny did as he was told. Hastily unlocking the two heavy duty bolts, he pushed the door open and got down to business by automatically doing what he knew RJ wanted: checking all the special features they'd out-fitted the room with.

He started by checking the strength of the canvas restraints on the thick wooden chair. Bolted to the floor, the chair was equipped with restraints for wrists and ankles; even one for around one's waist should that person violently object ... at first ... to their new life.

RJ swore up and down that _Steve_ wouldn't need it for long; that he'd really _see_ RJ and understand. RJ only needed some time to show him ... prove things to him.

Privately, Kenny wasn't so sure about that being true. But he kept that opinion carefully to himself.

"Hurry it up!" RJ demanded. "It has to be perfect! No mistakes!"

"I know! I _KNOW_!" Kenny shouted as he dutifully walked over to the big bed and bent down. With practiced fingers, he checked those canvas restraints which were laced though the bed frame, hidden under the pretty light blue sheets and comfortable duvet. Everything was as it should be. He muttered as much to RJ before moving on to the wrought iron bars on the lone window overlooking the heavily jungled yard. Under RJ's orders, Kenny had let that grow wild intentionally with just the smallest of mowed swaths of green grass. The rest of it was nothing but a massive wall of nearly impenetrable greenery.

It was absolutely perfect, providing complete privacy from all angles.

"You know what's next," RJ said. The devious smile in the tone of his voice was evident and Kenny shuddered in response. With a dismal nod, he moved over to his mothers' old dark-wood dresser and its mirrored-hutch. His eyes fell to the neat row of bottles lining the front of the dresser. Small white or orange pharmaceutical bottles of varying sizes and modes. Tablets, liquid oral suspensions, lozenges, and multi colored pills.

Antidepressants. Mood stabilizers. Antipsychotics. Anti-anxiety medications.

Multiple medications saved and retained; re-ordered multiple times. All specifically assembled and re-purposed for Steve McGarrett by RJ, himself.

Kenny knew exactly what they did. He knew and understood the dosages, timing and interactions of each and every one. RJ needed him most for this. Kenny wasn't just the muscle this time or the guy who knew how to drive or fly his father's barely serviceable old plane. RJ _needed_ Kenny for this special balancing act of prescription drugs to get it just right. To control and keep Steve in line as RJ helped him understand how much they needed to be together. So that Steve would really see that RJ had done everything for him ... would do anything ... for _them_ , together.

But to do it all right, RJ needed Kenny because Kenny had first hand experience. He had been given any and all of these same medications at one time or another. He knew what each one did or didn't do. He understood what the various combinations of each would do to a person ... if they upset a stomach or caused a headache. If they affected vision or balance. If they made you too tired or almost comatose. Kenny _knew_ because he'd personally experienced each and every one himself.

"Is it all there?" RJ asked excitedly. "Is it? Because it's almost time and it has to be right ... you _can't_ fuck this up for me! It better be fucking perfect ... I mean it!"

"Yeah, yeah it's all here, RJ," Kenny answered. "Where the hell is it going to go, _huh_? But it's a bad idea, RJ," he whispered to his reflection in the mirror. "A bad ... bad idea. He's too strong ... he's too smart."

"He's for me," RJ hissed back though clenched teeth. "I _want_ him ... I'll _teach_ him to want _me_ just as much. I want him ... now."

Kenny swallowed hard, his eyes full of a fearful foreboding as RJ began to laugh.

 

**H5O* H5O**

They'd fallen asleep together with Danny spooning into Steve from behind, his right arm draped over his shoulder, and right leg wrapped comfortably over Steve's, clinging like a limpet to a rock. He was awake again though, Steve could tell as he watched the fingers of Danny's right hand clench and then unclench. The pattern was almost rhythmical. Open. A twitch of his ring finger, then the middle, followed by his thumb. A count to three and then the fingers would slowly tighten into a fist. Another count of five and there was a fairly conscious effort to relax. Danny's hand would re-open only for the cycle to begin again.

"Stop." To forestall another round, Steve reached up to capture Danny's fingers. "Stop thinking so hard. Go back to sleep."

"I can't," Danny murmured softly, his voice raspy from sleep and worry. "I don't like it."

"Are we gonna do this now?" Steve muttered into the side of his pillow. Some things hadn't changed one bit and Steve didn't know if he was amused or annoyed by Danny's innate ability to worry something to the bone.

"Don't you think we should?" Danny snarked back into his shoulder. "It's a damned stupid idea. Suppose I'm wrong, huh? Those damned pills screw me up every time and just suppose that I made all of that up inside my head."

"So, if you're wrong, then it's logical to reason that nothing will happen. We'll rally a sting operation and nothing will happen," Steve replied calmly. " _But_. Danny. I don't think that's the case."

"And that's why I don't like this idea of yours," Danny replied. "If I _am_ right, this guy is insane ... he thinks you're _his_ ... he's obviously capable of anything. You don't know how long he's been watching me or you ... or even _us_."

"Obviously," Steve gently agreed as he rolled over onto his back, piloting Danny to rest onto his chest with both of his hands. "But it's the only way ... we have to draw him out and making myself available makes perfect sense. You know that; we can't live like this, Danno! We've got nothing to go on ... we're dead in the water and I want this guy. _For you_ ... for us."

"Suppose all of that was just the drugs talking, huh?" Danny continued to argue back as Steve soothingly ran his hands up and down Danny's arms. "There could be more than two guys; you can't leave yourself wide open as bait. I don't like it! Anyway ... who the hell would want _you_?"

"You did." Steve grinned happily as he leaned up to plant a kiss on the side of Danny's cheek. Amused by Danny's annoyed look and the way he'd worked himself into a corner.

"Did I ever hate you before? Because I really think that I do right now," Danny complained as he tapped at Steve's chest, eyes narrowing when Steve gave out with a pleased chuckle.

"Nope," Steve answered despite the grin which refused to leave his face. "You might not remember some things, but you sure haven't changed one single bit." He meant the statement as a compliment or even as a way to ease some of Danny's mind, however the reaction he'd expected didn't happen. Instead of smiling back or looking even remotely satisfied, Danny's eyes narrowed suspiciously.

"What the hell does that mean?" Danny asked. He pulled back, out of Steve's hands, the bed sheets pooling around his hips.

"What?" Steve asked, stunned by the look on his partner's face.

"That I haven't _changed one single bit_ ," Danny repeated Steve's comment word for word. "What does that mean?"

A million different responses flew through Steve's mind; half of which were sarcastic. But there was something in Danny's eyes that begged for something different. His expression was open, vulnerable. He was genuinely looking for something which he could maybe _understand_ \- use - and so Steve gave him a sensitive, reasonable reply.

"It means that it's not all that bad that you don't remember things ... _yet_ ," Steve clarified gently as Danny stared down at him, slightly piqued. Reaching up, Steve insisted that Danny relax against him again. Using this knuckles, he brushed Danny's hair away from the recently healed wound above his ear. The scar was faint, but he certainly could see it; he knew precisely where it was. Steve looked at the thin line and then gazed into Danny's eyes.

"I mean that you're inherently _you_ ... and not so deep down you know your family. You know who you are. You're still programmed the right way as a cop - it's who you are - Danno. And I know ... I _know_ that things are going to be perfectly fine."

"You can't know all that and you're not the guy who can't remember anything though," Danny groused unhappily. "You're not the guy who didn't understand the why of who you were ... or where you were. Why you had no clothes ... money ... not even a name. And now? You have no idea what it feels like to have that last awful thing you remember be practically the very first horrific _thing_ that your stupid brain decides to kick in with ... why couldn't I remember Charlie being born? Or, me ... and you?"

Danny gestured widely around their bedroom, half lit by moonlight streaming through the window. "Why not this, _huh_? Why the hell did it have to be the crash ... that _name_ ... and all that went with it?"

"I will always say you _did_ know,"Steve soothed gently. "The accident. Your disappearance. It was too much to deal with. I went out to the Big Island in the worst state of mind possible. But when I saw you standing there by the diner. Outside. Alone? I'd never been so happy in my entire life. But then ... you _ran_."

Steve shook his head, alternately partly frightened and half incredulous by those memories. He looked into Danny's face, eyes dark, emotions rising all over again. " _Jesus_ , Danno ... you _ran_ and when I couldn't find you? It was like a bad joke and the bottom had fallen out. _Again_. I didn't know what the hell I was going to do by that point. You were so sick ... so beaten down. But then, you came back ... I couldn't believe it when I saw you standing by the car. You were scared to shit and such a fucking mess and then, the most beautiful sight all at the same time. _You came back to me_ and that's all I'm gonna think about. I know you hate it and I'm not downplaying the amnesia, but trust me, everything else is gonna come back with time."

Danny sighed deeply, his eyes fraught with confusion and worry. "Yeah ... but ..."

"No ... _stop_ ," Steve interrupted as he swallowed hard, fighting the lump which had begun to grow inside his throat. "You. Came back. To me." He whispered softly as he carded his fingers through Danny's hair, his thumb left to affectionately rub a soft path across his partner's cheekbone.

"So yeah, you might not remember some things, but you sure haven't changed one damned single bit; and thank God for that," he added quietly, managing to smile as Danny's expression finally lightened and he leaned down so they could share a few tender kisses.

"Fine. Okay. Still don't like it though," Danny whispered around Steve's lips, exchanging the warmth of their breath, their noses touching. "I can't lose you ... can't do it."

"I know ... and you won't," Steve breathed out while he smiled into Danny's mouth, teasing and nipping. He soothed and placated, but couldn't hide his tender smile because his point had just been validated once more. Danny was worried; intent on belaboring his point to the bitter end. Nonetheless and as he might have even predicted for himself, Steve's next words were definitive as he drew Danny closer into his arms.

"Trust me I _know_. But I _am_ going to get the bastard who did this."

_**~ to be continued ~** _


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not own Hawaii Five-0 or any characters. No copyright infringement intended.
> 
> Notes: another 'new' chapter compliments of the annoying but constructive breakfast muse - or is this the saber-toothed bunny? I forget ... Anyway, I gather there is going to be a very valid reason for this umm, erhm, ah ... Explicit "interlude"? down the line somewhere ... at least, I hope so! ;-) 
> 
> PS - you might need more than mere "cookies" for this chapter ... *consider that a warning*!

 

**H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O**

 

Steve woke to an empty bed and wasn't at all concerned until he realized that Danny wasn't in the master bath, nor could he hear any distant sounds from the kitchen. He inhaled deeply, testing the air and then rolled cleanly out of bed in one motion. He stood there, stock still, listening, an internal warning bell starting to chime. It was too damned quiet in the house. No scent of coffee either. Nothing. The house was still wrapped within that nighttime peacefulness. Steve glanced at his cell phone to check the time then and started moving. It was early. Just after dawn. Way too early for his more typically night-owl of a partner to be up and about. Especially after the somewhat troubled evening they'd shared talking, worrying and hashing out the bones of the sting operation in an effort to flush out this...  _RJ._ Danny had been tired, emotionally drained.

Despite Danny's misgivings, they'd developed a game plan and a short term plan of action for the morning. To Steve, it made sense and he'd intended to set things in motion first thing. And Danny  _had_  agreed, albeit reluctantly. Now Steve wondered - was almost afraid to think - that he might have read the entire situation wrong.

"Danny?" Steve called out as he quickly donned a pair of jeans and t-shirt. "Danny!"

He took the steps to the main floor, two and three at a time, his bare feet hardly making a sound, immediately clocking that the front door was still locked. Through the big front window, he could just make out the unmarked police unit still there. The silhouettes of its occupants just visible and keeping a diligent watch. Nonetheless, he paused; going to his office to get a spare handgun from a lower drawer in his desk. He loaded it smoothly, readied his thumb on the safety and began his search. Everything was quiet though. Nothing had been disturbed however, the glass doors to the lanai were partly open, a refreshingly cool sea breeze trickling in and Steve went outside, his senses tingling.

"Danny!" Steve shouted this time, on edge and growing more alarmed with every passing second. There was no answer, no sign of his partner. Crickets chirped and night time birds were still calling to each other. Just a few feet nearby, the waves were gently hitting the beach. Cataloging everything, Steve jogged past their chairs to the sand, to stand at the water's edge. Danny didn't usually walk the beach, but Steve checked quickly left and then right, going so far as to jog down an easier stretch of sand. The place was deserted though and Steve felt a leaden weight begin to settle in the pit of his stomach.

But he saw it on the way back towards the house, just as he yanked out his cell phone to make his first calls for help. The old garage. The partly opened door and the orange-hue of the light inside. Steve frowned as he shoved the cell phone back into a pocket, his gun once more at the ready. The door was indeed open and the overhead fluorescents were on, just barely beating back the natural light of a brighter dawn.

 _Why the hell would Danny be inside the garage?_  Especially ... before the crack of dawn?

Still frowning in confusion, Steve poked his head through the doorway, cautious as ever. Danny was there though, standing quietly by himself at the front of the old Grand Marquis that Steve was forever molly-coddling through the years. He'd taken the heavy canvas car cover off and was just staring at the old car, his fingers placed lightly on the hood.

"Danny?" Steve called out as he shoved his weapon into the rear of his jeans. "You okay? Everything all right?"

Before he even looked up to meet Steve's eyes, Danny nodded, an oddly serene expression on his face. But his first words completely startled Steve.

"We met here," he stated softly. "Right here ... in this garage. By this car."

"Yeah," Steve answered after a long moment's pause, eyes wide. "We did."

"It was a long time ago. You had just gotten back ... you'd just come home," Danny continued speaking in a soft monotone, his eyes far away, his brow heavily creased in thought. "Not sure from where yet though. You'll need to tell me that one." Barely a second later, another strange look flickered across his face and he frowned even more deeply.

"But ... I'm sorry," he whispered as he suddenly looked up to meet Steve's intense gaze, his eyes glistening with a confused sadness. "Your ... it was your father wasn't it? Was that it ... really?"

"Yeah, Danny. Yeah, it was," Steve replied, fighting his emotions as Danny dredged up something most unexpected. "I'd been on a mission ... I came back for the funeral. You were on my father's case; we met here."

Unsure of what to do, Steve stayed where he was, too. Right in the doorway to the garage, afraid to move, afraid to breathe as Danny palmed his forehead.

"It was your dad. I'm sorry," Danny repeated even more sadly now. Morose enough for Steve to wonder what else of his father's terrible crime scene his partner might be remembering.

"It's ... okay. It was a long time ago now," Steve murmured carefully, astonished by what his partner was coming up with and not knowing how to really react, or what to say. At a loss when Danny didn't immediately share anything else, Steve finally just asked the most obvious of questions.

"Why are you out here, Danno?"

Danny shrugged off-handedly at first, indicating that he wasn't entirely sure. As he gauged Danny's expressions and mood, he seemed calm enough. So, Steve assumed that it hadn't been a bad dream or a dream of any kind because he'd have woken up. Nonetheless, like Steve, Danny was barefoot, too, but where Steve had taken time to dress, Danny was still in his night pants. Shirtless. The morning air held a chill and yet, Danny seemed completely immune to it all as he trailed his fingers over the slightly dusty hood of the car. Baffled by all the mixed signals, Steve could only wait for Danny to explain himself.

"Couldn't sleep. Didn't want to wake you. And I wound up here," he answered distractedly. Danny breathed in a deep lungful of air as if re-centering himself and then locked onto Steve's eyes with a more genuine smile. He ran his fingers across the hood of the old car, practically caressing the cool metal, his expression now more pleased. Happier.

"I saw the Marquis ... and something sparked ... I wasn't sure at first, but most of what I'm remembering is good ... it feels ... real."

"Yeah?" Steve lips twitched into a grin as his original flux of anxiety lessened, finally willing to go all the way into the garage to stand by Danny's side. In a way, he was a little disturbed by what Danny was remembering, but for the most part, the memories were decent. Healthier even, and he felt more relieved than worried now.

"Definitely good ... though maybe, neither of us knew it at the time," Steve said with a bigger smile, pleased when Danny turned, reaching for him.

"Or, maybe we did know?" Danny questioned rhetorically as he rubbed his hands over Steve's forearms. He was distracted again. This time enthralled by Steve's skin and a desire to just touch him. He ran his fingers up and down. Gentle circles, making Steve shiver, his body already eagerly responding. Shuddering as Danny did the same higher over his biceps, tracing what he could see of each tattoo. Repeating that slow dance of delicate fingertips, his touch featherlight, leaving a trail of goosebumps behind.

"We met  _here_. I remember bits of it ... I  _remember_  ...I don't think we ever did this here  _before_. Did we?" Danny's voice trailed softly off as he raised himself on his tiptoes, his meaning more than clear. Searching. Seeking out Steve's mouth, his tongue delving purposefully between Steve's lips.

"Did we?" Danny murmured dreamily as he playfully rutted against Steve's body, already hard. His eyes hooded and almost black in the light of the garage as he took advantage of the friction between his lighter-weight sleep pants and Steve's heavier jeans.

"N-no ...n-not quite," Steve breathed out as he remembered to at least put the handgun on the hood of the Marquis, only to then trap Danny closer to him, his arms wending around Danny's back, his hands falling lower to knead Danny's butt cheeks through the thin material. "We never did  _this_  here," he said into Danny's mouth with a devilish grin, wanting to almost laugh when Danny quirked a coy eyebrow at him.

"You brought a gun?" Danny noted, gesturing with his chin towards the small handgun. ""You were worried?"

"Yeah, I was," Steve admitted in all honesty. "You weren't in the house ... you didn't answer ... you  _never_  get up this early."

"Oh. So," Danny paused, his tone sly. "So maybe I have to apologize."

He reached up higher to gently rub his nose against Steve's, only to bite at Steve's bottom lip. "Maybe you should." Steve smirked as he hoisted Danny just a little higher by adding another meaningful squeeze of his partner's butt cheeks, his fingers parting and sinking between them.

"But ...do you think he'd mind?" Danny purred as he changed course entirely, breaking Steve's hold to tug him roughly down by the material of his t-shirt, pulling him towards the center of the heavy canvas car cover. "Your dad ... it's almost like he's here with the car ... kind of strange, no?"

"No ... and no," Steve murmured as he shook his head to the contrary, allowing Danny to pull him to his knees. He licked his lips, moistening them in anticipation, his eyes darkening as Danny palmed his cock through the material of his jeans, massaging and pressing while he nipped a wet trail across his jawline.

"Are you sure he wouldn't mind?" Danny whispered as he switched gears again to lightly run his hands up under Steve's t-shirt, his fingers cold against Steve's warmer chest, making him gasp uncomfortably.

"No. I mean yes ... yes, I'm sure," Steve breathed out as Danny scratched his fingernails over the ridges of his ribcage, across the planes of his abdomen and then upwards again, hard enough to leave a brief smattering of reddened lines in their wake. Hard enough to make Steve briefly wince before a flood of warmth pooled low in his belly and his cock twitched, already desperate for more of Danny's attention.

"Which is it?" Danny asked mockingly. "No ... or yes?"

"N-no, I don't think he'd care at all. He wouldn't ... care." Steve hissed a sibilant sound between his teeth as Danny found the raised, sensitive nubs of his nipples, tweaking and teasing each and he shivered again, the pressure inside his jeans beginning to become unbearable.

"Good," Danny murmured as rucked the material of the t-shirt up higher. Insistent that Steve lift his arms over his head so that he could pull the t-shirt off, discard it to the side.

"D-Danno." His breath faltered as Danny palmed him again though his jeans, teasing and pressing, asking permission for something which Steve was more than on board with. He moaned in approval as Danny finally released the button and fly to work his jean's open, pulled his hardening cock out, and freed it to continue pulling and massaging in long, upward strokes.

" _Jesus_  ... Danno," Steve moaned into Danny's mouth as their tongues warred for control. Multi-tasking as he reciprocated to run his own palms firmly over Danny's already bare torso, briefly wondering how long Danny had been mulling over the Marquis as his fingers spread a sheen of cool morning dew and a heated line of sweat over his skin, making it glisten.

"Off," Steve growled as he tugged at Danny's sleep pants, easily getting them down to Danny's knees where they bunched sloppily. With another frustrated growl, Steve pulled Danny over onto the thick tarp so that Danny could do the rest, kicking the light weight material off and away. Then Steve lifted his own hips, hastily pulling and shoving at the material. Fighting it down to his ankles so that Danny could help get his jeans off.

Now, bare skin to bare skin, they continued investigating each other. Play fighting for control. Their nerves thrumming with desire. Wanting to rush; insisting that they take their time. Their bodies already slick with sweat with a barely seen misty steam rising in the coolness of the early morning hour. Oblivious to everything, they tested, teased and toyed with each other. Giving, taking and stealing one from the other through a series of playful nibbles, sharp nips and touches. Warring for control, neither willing to allow the other dominance.

Lying on his back, Steve worked his hand over Danny's cock while mouthing his lips, chin and that soft, tender spot on Danny's clavicle. Sucking, lapping and using his teeth, he worked his way down to gently bite and tongue at Danny's nipples, making the blond's toes curl. He chuffed an amused sound into Danny's chest as his partner tried to arch his back, Danny's hand losing its cadence on Steve's rock-hard length. Steve took advantage of that slip up immediately by taking control. In one smooth motion, Steve heaved Danny up and over, neatly depositing the blond beneath him now, rendering Danny breathless as he plundered his mouth, his hand working Danny's shaft with a vengeance.

"S-Steve," Danny moaned out as his fingers scrabbled for purchase on Steve's broad shoulders, his bare heels at a loss for traction against the dewy-slick of the canvas tarp. "Steve ...just ...  _fuck_."

Steve grinned and panted in kind, devilishly pleased when Danny's back arched off the tarp, his hips meeting Steve's hand, thrusting, wanting more, now on the verge of coming. His moans loud in the space of the small shed, only the Marquis standing as a mute witness. His second hand trailed further down now, towards the softer skin of Danny's belly, only to keep going where he began to play with Danny's balls, a gentle finger pressing and teasing into his hole while he laved and mouthed a heated trail over Danny's chest.

Danny whined plaintively, bucking and desperate. This wasn't their bedroom and they weren't actually prepared for  _this_ though and Steve hesitated not wanting to hurt either of them. But Danny looked into his face, his eyes glazed over and his mouth partly open in wanton passion. He leaned up to bite at Steve's lips, rutting into his hand, demanding; his cock hot and pulsing.

Spurred on by his own needs, Steve's growl was nearly feral as he splayed his palms wide over Danny's body, rubbing his hands up over the breadth of Danny's abdomen and chest, collecting moisture from matted, glistening hair, only to spit into his hand to further ease the friction of another long pull on Danny's hard length.

"St-steven...  _Steve-ven,_ " Danny whimpered his plea and Steve obliged immediately by giving his undivided attention to preparing his partner as best as possible. One spit-laden finger became two and then Steve added a third as Danny groaned out his lust, his nails now leaving exquisitely painful tracks on Steve's shoulders and arms. Unable to wait any longer, Steve pressed his cock against Danny's rim, rocking and teasing, insistent upon going slow despite his partner's unintelligible complaints to go faster, move  _harder_.

His forearms were either side of Danny's head when his partner's legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him in closer. Eyes barely opened, they bit at each other's lips almost manically and Steve grunted in response, finally thrusting harder, a keening noise from Danny proving that he'd found the blond's prostate. Through the rhythmic slap of raw skin, a down beat to their mutual sounds of pleasure and shattered words, Danny's hand joined Steve's on his cock, pumping until he spasmed, coming hard over his own belly. Steve's hands milked him, his palms running through the matted mess until he stiffened, shuddered and came with another grunt, his face buried in the crook of Danny's neck, his breathing harsh and ragged.

Wrecked and light-headed, Steve slumped to his elbow, pulling Danny over with him into a warm embrace. In the soft morning glow of the old garage, Danny's head tucked under his chin and the blond's arms and legs spread akimbo over his sex-streaked skin, Steve gazed up into the dusty rafters of that old garage. He caressed the dampness off Danny's bare shoulder and placed a loving kiss on the top of his sweaty, matted hair. Steve grinned in utter contentment as Danny lazily traced his fingers over the dappled sweat of his chest, the smell of sex deep within his nostrils, the shared murmur of pleasured sighs the only evidence needed that they were blissfully together.

_**~ to be continued ~** _


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not own Hawaii Five-0 or any characters. No copyright infringement intended.
> 
> Notes: I certainly appreciate the appreciation (*BG) for that prior McDanno chapter - that was not too easy to do at all! And since it was rather 'new' to the outline (that wasn't the Frisky chapter BTW), I have to continue to trust the muse. That means this next chapter has to be the way it is though it's an interesting concept of a time jump (roughly a day has elapsed ...).  I'm trusting the muse to fill in the gaps the right way. Caveat:  Not a doctor, so any references to these drugs are contrived or adapted from Google.

 

**H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O**

 

Waking from a deep, deep sleep felt like swimming through a thick, black ocean and then, he wasn't even sure if he was awake because he couldn't open his eyes all the way. And what did it matter? His thoughts were peaceful ...  _early dawn. The distant sounds of birds. The sea. Danny's head resting on his chest; tucked into him. Their fingers interlaced._

"Danny," Steve tried to say his partner's name, but all that he managed was a soft guttural sound barely audible to his own ears. His head bobbed awkwardly, his chin falling to his chest and still, his lips twitched into a smile. The garage. What Danny had remembered by the old Marquis ... then, the best round of love-making they'd enjoyed since he could remember. Their entire morning had been nothing short of ...  _magical_.

He zoned out, that soft smile still making his lip twitch upwards every now and again. He drifted along on that happy tide for a long time until he realized that he could hear voices and that was ... strange. The voices were close by. Over his head. In front of him. By his side. Two distinct people talking about him but not necessarily to him.  _Why_?

Steve lost that question as quickly as it had come to him and he skidded once more back into that gentle place of almost non-being. Thoughts of Danny flickered in and out of his consciousness. He breathed in deeply, his lungs struggling for air, not quite realizing or able to understand that he'd been drugged with a strong major tranquilizer or neuroleptic.  A type of drug which was sedating his respiratory system, lessening all of his internal anxieties. Letting questions, thoughts ... his ability to concentrate ... scatter to the wind.

But after a time, he was cognizant of those voices again and he fought just a bit harder to understand. One sounded scared … possibly even petrified. The other was definitely more confident and in control; calmer, authoritative. Steve's brow knit before smoothing out as if he couldn't be bothered the energy to expend a frown. His mind wandered back over to thoughts of Danny.

But the voices droned on. Disturbingly so and he fought harder. Steve tried to shake his head to clear it from its thick miasma and failed. He opened his mouth, wanting to say something. Anything at all and only sighed questioningly around his partner's name.

 _Danny_? But, no. Neither voice was Danny's.

Steve winced as the promise of a headache blossomed at the base of his skull. The dull thud beat in time to his slow heartbeat. He just barely had there wherewithal to ask himself one basic question:  _Just what the hell had happened?_

"He's coming around. Suppose he tries something?"

"You're an ass, he  _can't_ unless you fuck up again, buddy boy! Give him some more to drink though … it's too soon ... the water bottle … this one. "

Something was held to Steve's lips - the water bottle his murky brain supposed - and he choked a bit as room temperature liquid dribbled into his mouth because he hadn't been quite ready. Or, maybe it was just that he couldn't get anything to work the way it should.

He  _was_  thirsty though and as more trickled into his mouth, Steve willingly swallowed.  _Water_. It quenched the uncomfortably dryness within his mouth and soothed his throat. Only then did he realize how very thirsty he really was and he sought out more of it until he sensed something strange.

"Good, good. Have more … just a bit more," one of the two voices encouraged him as water was dribbled continually over his lips. He swallowed more hesitantly, confused until his brain connected a few dots at an abysmally slow rate of speed. This wasn't right.  _Water_? Yes. Or maybe … it  _was_  water … but it had a bitter aftertaste and he grimaced, awkwardly twisting his head away. Instinctively now wanting to refuse more. Concerned when the bottle followed his lips to be persistently up-ended into his mouth. Fingers steadied his chin, forcing him to swallow. Again and again.

"Now, now Steve." A strange voice crooned in his ear when he coughed heavily, his weak head movements ineffective at dislodging the grip on his chin. "It's just water sweetheart … just  _water_."

It wasn't though. Not  _just_  anything. He was already feeling worse. More light-headed; disembodied. His tenuous hold on consciousness was dimming at a dangerous pace. His head bobbled awkwardly on his neck when his chin was finally released and he kept failing at really opening his eyes. He was there, but at the same time he wasn't at all.

"W-who?" Steve 's mouth wouldn't work. He could barely form a single word. Frustration flared and then fled him. He couldn't grasp his emotions or capture a single thought inside his head.  _Danny_. Hadn't he just been with ... Danny? Things were flitting in and out, then in again. Something whispered that none of those things were important and yet … they  _were_.

"W-where? H-help ... m-me" he pushed out over his numbing lips, the words slurred as his tongue refused to cooperate.

"Sweetheart …  _shhh_  … you're here now and mine to look after … I'm sorry that I just can't trust you yet though. The drugs are going to be necessary. At least for a little while." There was a laugh then. Low and pleased, tinged with pride.

For a minute Steve's heart felt as if it might actually stop. Part of his brain knew where he was ... remembered what had happened. Another part whispered dangerous things in his ear to  _sleep_. Rest. Relax; to just let the world be and let it go by without him. That was easy and he almost caved, but he rallied instead. He tried to focus. As he sat there struggling to understand, laughter flowing over his ears, he dredged up the first few frightened words which Danny had shared about the ...  _cop_.

 _RJ_. He'd found a name inside his head and ...  _and_  Danny had said  _he_  had laughed.  _Danny_. Where was he ... what the hell was going on?"

Steve forced his eyes open and gained nothing more than the blackish-white silhouette of a man smudged in dark blue. _A cop._  No. Not a cop at all. On gut instinct alone, he knew this man was RJ.

"N-no," Steve pushed out as he shook his head slowly while he grimaced again, this time from dislike. A vague feeing of hate. Not only for what the voice was demanding he do, but for Danny. For what he'd just been  _called_  … for the inquisitive finger which now dared to touch his cheekbone. So carefully. Reverently as if Steve were the most precious thing on earth.

"You're finally here," the voice whispered in awe. "I've waited so, so long for this day …."

"Dammit, this is just ... we're so screwed! How am I supposed to go back to work today?"

"Shut the fuck up," the man in front of Steve drawled in a soft, bored tone. "He's here now, buddy boy. He's here now."

His finger re-traced the curve of Steve's cheekbone, ending at the juncture of his lips. Steve wasn't sure what he was seeing or hearing at first. It took him a long long time to realize that he wasn't really staring at an honest to goodness police officer. To believe that this  _was_  really RJ. He blinked wildly through the hazy excuse of a mind he had, trying to be mad as hell that he'd been forced into drinking tainted water. Trying to find his temper that he'd slipped up ...  _somehow_.

"I'm so so screwed," the man whined.

"No, no ... no one knows," he suddenly switched gears, his words more calm if not impatient. "You did good, buddy boy. For a change."

"But ... but I have to get back to work ... they'll be looking for him! What do I do?" Scared, uncertain. The tone a higher pitch.

"Clean the damn toilets, moron!" A rude, sarcastic snort and the man's eyes narrowed in mock amusement.

Steve blinked stupidly at the fuzzy figure before him. Talking near gibberish, his voice was changing timbre as if he … and Steve stopped right there as his brain fought past its drugged state of being. The man in front of him was yammering to himself.

"F-fuck me," he whispered as he far too slowly realized just what the hell he was seeing. Head bobbing awkwardly, Steve looked around the room to be sure. No one else was there and his hazy vision blurred in and out, making him feeling nauseous as he fought to focus on the man standing in front of him. He hadn't been hearing two people at all; at least not in the usual sense of the word. This was Danny's abductor. But the man was acting as if he might be possessed.

Steve watched, mute, as the man alternately argued and whimpered to himself, switching between two utterly diverse personalities. At least two he could decipher in the few seconds he'd been aware enough to just  _think_ and that ability was fading fast as Steve began to feel as if he were floating away from his body. He was so tired now, his battle genuine against whatever he'd been given.

"Shit," Steve whispered to himself as he dimly recognized the HPD officer from  _where_? He wasn't sure. _The Palace?_  No.  _Maybe_. Had this man been helping him? "No ...," Steve murmured as he swallowed hard, eyes closing tightly when a dizzying wave of nausea washed over him.

_Where had he been? Why? Where was ... Danny?_

"Sick," Steve murmured helplessly. He couldn't think again ... couldn't find Danny inside his head anymore. He couldn't open his eyes. "W-where ...?"

"Steve, Steve? Just breathe through it sweetheart," the man coaxed as his hand shakily carded through his hair. A hand gently tapped against his cheek. "The nausea will pass. When it does, try to sleep, okay? Sleep."

"Don't touch him! Don't!" The man suddenly wheezed loudly in fear as he snatched his hand back to his chest. Steve jolted at the warning shout, blinking wildly again, trying to see the man's face.

"Fucking fool! You  _scared_  him ... shut up! Shut up! Leave me with him!"

Steve moaned deeply in bewilderment, the terrifying reason for his startled reaction vanishing within seconds. His head bobbed on his neck. The man was changing like a crazed chameleon and he simply couldn't keep up. His eyelids fluttered in vain. He could just make out the oddity of fluctuating facial features and posture. Most disturbing though were the changes in vocal tone, though. It all changed in a flashes of shadowy sight and sound, and Steve moaned again, knowing he was trapped. Not understanding what had happened ... the when or where of it.  Not knowing where Danny was and being completely unable to move or think.  His heart wanted to hammer itself out of his chest and yet it was unable to due to the depressants flooding his system.

Stuck where he was and just for a few seconds longer, Steve forced himself to look into the eyes of his possessed captor. But he found no answers there at all. Then, it didn't matter as the man began to walk an errant circle in front of him. His shadowy figure dimmed to grays, blues and blacks. Steve's fluttering eyelids finally closed and his breathing evened out. As he fell into a reluctant sleep, Steve wasn't sure he'd ever stand a chance in reasoning his way out of this one because, drugged or not, he was damn well aware enough to know what he was  _seeing_. And for this situation, he had no plan at all.

_**~ to be continued ~** _


	15. Chapter 15

**H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O**

 

Danny sat in stony silence by himself in his office. He sat there unmoving, just watching the rest of his team work at a dizzying pace. Something they'd been doing for the last ten hours. With the door closed, he could barely hear the sound of their voices.

He wasn't even breathing. He was sure of it. He was thinking though. Nonstop in fact. The worst part was, he'd felt this way before about something which had happened to Steve. He just wasn't sure the when or why of it. He was doing his best to ignore the smattering of illogical images which rolled through his head.

_Navy SEALS. Danny, himself, on a military transport? The fucking …. Taliban? Steve … injured in a military field hospital._

There was no way Danny had ever been to … _Afghanistan_? He shook his aching head, disgusted with himself. It was insane.

No matter how it had been done … if it even had ever happened? Danny _felt_ an overwhelming sense of desperation which he knew he'd lived through before. A pending doom. An incomprehensible sense of loss. But, if something incredible had ever happened in the past, obviously Steve had come home. _But now?_ Danny simply couldn't shake similar feelings. Except now, it was ten times worse because _now_ he was letting Steve down because he simply wasn't capable - he lacked the capacity - to do anything about it.

Danny blinked and refocused for a minute as Lou's large shape disrupted his near blank stare. Their eyes met briefly as the big man glanced his way, his look at once sympathetic and outraged, but Danny didn't actually acknowledge him. For all intents, Danny was in a semi state of shock. He knew what he wanted to do. He even had an internal conceptual argument rattling around inside his brain of what he should be doing. But he didn't quite know how any more.

His internal catalogue of snitches, contacts, and liaisons was gone. Dried up and gone to dust. The only thing he had at his disposal was his team and right then, he needed them badly. He could offer them nothing in return though. Even if he'd been cleared for duty, he'd be useless as the Second in Command within 5-0. Except for his ridiculous ability to recall his badge number, those rudimentary remembrances of waking on the Big Island or providing a dissertation on one bad dream with his attackers' initials, for all intents and purposes, he was utterly useless.

Danny vaguely watched Kono as she simultaneously shouted orders into her cell phone and worked the large smart table. Somewhere along the way, Steve had acted on Danny's damnable nightmare, setting into motion a number of things. Actually more than that since he'd believed Danny from the very start. He'd believed that the most ridiculous elements of Danny's first dark thoughts back in the hotel on the Big Island, as well as the confusing signals in his nightmares, might all be founded in some kind of truth.

Unbeknownst to Danny, Steve had acted on everything which Danny had tried to share, determined to peel back its layers. Danny was shocked to learn that Steve had the Big Island resources scouring locations where he might have been left for dead. That he'd already set Kono, Chin and Lou down predetermined roads to find any traces of a mysterious uniformed cop - or one masquerading as a cop - going by the initials of _R.J._

Those same demands had already kicked off yet another forensics analysis of the Camaro.

They were all determined to fill in the blanks. Help him remember. Find _R.J._ amongst an impossible database. But none of that really mattered now unless it solved their biggest problem of … _finding Steve._

Danny forced himself to inhale, barely trying to beat back the nausea roiling his stomach from shock and stress. From the migraine which had taken up such a hold inside his head, there likely was no easy fix. He was pale. Shaky. He hadn't eaten in all of those ten hours. The others wanted him to go back home for a multitude of reasons. And even though he had nothing to offer them, he'd of course refused. It was fair to say that they were worried about him; scared to death for Steve. As for him? He was just plain scared. What was happening now made zero sense to him. He simply didn't understand how Steve could have been taken within a day of kicking off the sting operation.

For the umpteenth time, Danny thought about the prior day; their morning together in the garage. He'd lost his smile about that a long time ago. He advanced his mental ponderings to breakfast, then lunch when he'd accompanied Steve to the 5-0 offices to engage the team in their simple but risky little plot to uncover their unsub. There'd been buy-in with an heavy dose of caution for good measure. Danny had reluctantly approved and they'd all gone out to dinner. Side Streets, supposedly one of Danny's favorite local haunts. He hadn't remembered it at all though.

After? Danny briefly closed his eyes, a private pain aging his face. It had been a quiet night and in the morning, Steve had taken to the water for an early morning swim. Nothing unusual per se except for an early and very urgent call to the office. Something about a homicide; an association to an onshore arms deal. All hands on deck ... 5-0 required as lead agency with federal agency support. And that's where things had gone to hell in a hand basket. Steve hadn't bothered to shower or change at home. He'd grabbed his gear bag, insisted that Danny stay home to avoid raising red flags, opted to shower up at the Palace to save time. It had all made sense. It had almost been everything they'd agreed upon.

It had all made sense until Steve hadn't met the others in his office.

It had all made sense until they'd learned that there had been no homicide. No active arms deal. No other agencies, federal or otherwise were involved. Everything had been completely contrived and the call, a total fake. And by then, even though it might have been no more than thirty or forty-five minutes, it was too damned late. For all the planning and for all their caution, Steve was gone.

Danny inhaled another strangled breath of air and blinked again, his gaze falling to his computer screen where the brief four second's worth of video was replaying in an endless loop.

_The exterior view of the hallway leading to the locker room and showers. The door opens. A side view of Steve's profile. A stooped shape on Steve's opposite side, virtually hidden from sight by the larger man. Apparently injured or drugged, Steve's arm draped over the shoulders of that figure._

_A uniformed shape. Male. Likely a little less than average height. Short dark hair. Perfectly trimmed to collar length in the back. The two in camera for less than four staggering steps. The two blink out of sight._

That's it. Nothing else existed. Nothing except the tainted water bottle left behind on the bench next to Steve's gear bag. At first, no one had even suspected anything wrong with the bottle. It was just a benign bottle of water. At wits end, Danny had insisted it be tested and now, those results were added onto a mountain of worry.

Danny squeezed his eyes shut, his head throbbing with a vengeance. The lab results had been processed with terrifying results. The water had been laced with Rohypnol. Common enough and certainly effective enough. In minutes, Steve would have begun to feel its affects. Inability to concentrate, poor coordination, dizziness … and God help him, in some cases, even amnesia. It was a cruel joke.

Beyond all of these terrible things, Danny still didn't understand the how of it - the why was simple. _RJ wanted Steve._ Danny no longer mattered in the equation and this faceless attacker had proven his ability to take what he wanted.

Steve was now gone and there would be no call for ransom or otherwise. Their actual locker room didn't have surveillance cameras. Other cameras yielded nothing. Their unsub … presumably RJ … was familiar with the Palace. Knew its ins and outs far too well. Had contrived his own plan which was so incredibly typical, that no one had taken it for a potential trap.

Worse yet, had managed to best the ex-SEAL right under their very noses. It was mind-boggling across the board.

They had nothing.

It just didn't compute at all.

So Danny sat there alone in his office. A lonely island of one behind his desk. Incapable of moving. Unwilling to breathe. He was lost again; completely adrift without this man who had saved him. A few of Danny's memories were coming back now. But they were fragmentary and unreliable. They meant nothing to him at all and were useless to his team. _Useless to Steve._ And Danny needed Steve. He'd been relying on him every single step of the way without even knowing just how much.

**H5O* H5O***

 

Steve sat there unmoving as the droplet of blood hit the floor in the bedroom. His eyes flickered up, spell-bound as his captor cut himself again. In fact, the man's arms were cris-crossed by a spider web of scars from years of self-abuse. There wasn't a clear patch of skin anywhere on either arm. The man ... RJ ... was now literally adding and compounding to that damage over and over again.

"It's not my fault," the man moaned, nearly blubbering in fear as he used the small razor blade to make a third concentrated slice. "RJ please ... I'm sorry!"

It was becoming more than Steve could take as another shining droplet of blood coalesced to form a thin line, heavy enough to trickle down the man's wrist. The talking, the arguing and the change in the man's tenor. All of these things were impossible to comprehend. But adding in this? _No_. And Steve inhaled sharply, shaking his head in a vain attempt to focus more.

"Stop it," Steve finally pushed out through clenched teeth. "What the hell are you doing?"

The drugs had been doing a number on his system and his voice barely carried. He'd roused to a partial state of awareness numerous times over the last few hours. Waking in the same spot, always alone within a silent cage. He didn't understand half the things that had happened. He certainly didn't know what to expect. Worse yet, during all of those empty hours, he'd scarcely been able to form a logical thought or control a finger, let alone force his body to move.

So he'd sat there stupidly trapped in place for the entire time. Trying to focus enough to figure out what had happened. Wondering if Danny was still okay.

But rousing to this? He didn't know what he'd wake to, but he sure as hell hadn't expected this display. He'd woken to RJ sitting in front of him, their knees practically touching, the guy just staring at him. The policemans uniform had been taken off, replaced with a pair of plain gray coveralls. The initials monogrammed in white thread over the left breast pocket were not _R.J_., but the name _Kenny_. Steve had thought then that he knew the guy. That he might have seen him once or twice in passing. Because now, in this attire? There was something hauntingly familiar about him.

At first, there had been no talking between them at all. Not a word shared whatsoever. For the longest time, RJ had just stared longingly at Steve. His expression had also held a certain look of ... pride. Awe. Steve didn't know what to think about any of that, either. It was as if RJ hadn't thought he'd ever get so lucky as to actually have Steve sitting there, like some sort of prize.

Hiding under an impassive veneer, Steve had wanted to kill him. Instead, he had waited him out.

Things had been weird, but quiet. Calm enough until the mumbling had started and the man had abruptly stood to stalk out of the room. He'd returned with a razor blade, his face suffused in anger. The top half of the gray coveralls had been zipped open and left to hang around the man's waist. He was wearing a t-shirt, but his arms were now bared. And that was when Steve had gotten his first good look at him. The scars; a few newer wounds. His brain still hadn't kicked in though and Steve had been positive that the blade had been meant for him. He'd been incredibly wrong. Unable to follow the soliloquy which had slowly escalated to where it was now, Steve could only watch as the man continually unraveled to self-mutilate his arm.

"Hey!" Steve croaked dryly as series of bloody drops splattered across the floor. He licked his lips, vainly looking for moisture. He was desperate for water. To clear his sinuses from a metallic scent he knew was from whatever drugs he'd been given. There was no way in hell that he'd willingly take anything this man might offer. _Ever_.

"RJ ... please!" The man burbled loudly.

 _RJ_. Steve's eyes narrowed in pure hatred as he stared at the manic figure in front of him. Hands slowly fisting, Steve realized that he was able to corner the first tendrils of anger. The drugs were wearing off and he needed to learn something of value. Gain a semblance of control within the insanity he was bearing witness to.

"Hey!" He rasped out again when the man continued to prattle on to himself, his left arm now coated in blood. "Stop it ... just _stop_."

Wide pain-filled eyes finally swung his way and Steve surprised himself by asking a rather simple question.

"What's your name?" Steve asked quietly. "Who are you?"

The man paused, nervously, his lips trembling. Undeniably petrified to say a word and yet, he took a deep breath before finally answering. "K-Kenny. Kenny Ingraham."

"Kenny," Steve whispered under his breath, forcing his beleaguered brain to just think. He _did_ know this man. If not his name, then maybe his face or his eyes. There was definitely something familiar and ... Steve stopped cold in his mental tracks, re-examining the plain gray coveralls. The ... _uniform_. Just like ... and he suddenly found himself amazed by his own level of stupidity.

 _Just like the maintenance guys_ ... the guys who worked in the Facilities Department at the Palace; inside HPD. _The goddamn bathroom janitor._ Steve blinked wildly as Kenny nervously began pacing an errant path in front of him.

"Easy .. take it easy," he hissed softly as Kenny's face turned white and the mutterings started up all over again.

"He had me make this r-room f-for you," Kenny said, his voice high-pitched and the words rushed. "All of it's ... f-for you! He said I fucked it up. Did I fuck it up? _Did I?!"_

Steve saw it then. He'd been either so out of it due to the drugs or so engaged with the oddities of his captor, he'd missed it entirely. Startled by Kenny's frenetic words, Steve took a good, long hard look at the room he was being housed in. The walls were lined with news articles and clippings about him dating back to his high school football days at Kukui High, newer ones about his Naval accomplishments. Bits and pieces about 5-0, the cases which had hit the media.

But then an entire wall-sized collage of pictures and images ... of just ... _him_. At work. In the parking lot; at restaurants. Swimming. A hodgepodge of insanity featuring himself on center state. _Just him._ If anyone had been once been included in any of those photographs, their images had been painstakingly obliterated.

"Shit," Steve muttered to himself as he looked at Kenny's terrified face again. He had his very own stalker. But not in Kenny ... in RJ.

_**~ to be continued ~** _


	16. Chapter 16

**H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O**

 

Kenny felt like he couldn't breathe at all. Inside, he just knew that RJ was listening. He could feel it and he'd angered RJ enough already. RJ had unexpectedly lashed out and made him cut his arm, a series of long, slicing cuts which stung and throbbed relentlessly. And now, RJ was just waiting for him to fuck up again and Kenny didn't know what to do. The 5-0 Commander was staring at him, too. The dangerous man was awake and more aware then he should be. RJ was starting to whisper orders. Frightening orders to drug the Commander, to manage a light dinner, move him to the bed because he couldn't stay in that damned chair for so long. Kenny knew RJ was right. It had been too long. However, Kenny didn't want any part of McGarrett. He didn't want to go near him, let alone have to touch him. Make sure his _needs_ were taken care of per RJ's nastily purred orders.

"Do it," RJ whispered to him. "Do it, buddy boy. Give him his medicine and put him to bed. Make sure he's comfortable ... he has to be _comfortable_."

"Medicine. He needs … his meds," Kenny said under his breath to RJ in order to placate him. Keep him happy and make him … silent. Shut him up. Maybe RJ would even sleep for a while too so Kenny could also rest. He was tired, scared and now he didn't feel well. So Kenny looked over to the tall bureau where the perfect assembly of bottles and liquids were lined up like neat, little soldiers. He was aware that the Commander's gaze had also followed his line of sight and he could well imagine McGarrett's nervousness about what was going to come next.

Nonetheless, it had to be.

He could sympathize though. He could sympathize because Kenny remembered what he'd been subjected to - he remembered his own troubling medication schedule. The visits to the specialists, the psychiatrists, the protocol to keep him 'functional'. He remembered all of it, including the mind-numbing side affects. He'd walked around much like a zombie for hours and sometimes days on end. Missed school. Lost friends. Was shunned by anyone his own age. Eventually feared by members within his own family. He'd barely managed to keep a part time job. If that was all considered _functional_ , then those experts could all fuck themselves. After his mother had passed, Kenny had missed a dose here ... another, there. RJ had come back with a sneaky vengeance and after that, Kenny had found a new normal.

And RJ had discovered ... _Steve_. Over time, that appreciation had become obsession.

They worked in tandem now. RJ taking the aggressive lead with Kenny adapting to the back-seat. But RJ needed him now more than ever. He needed him for so many important things! Including the hoarding and proper dispensing of medications.

"Yes, okay … needs to sleep," Kenny muttered as he glanced towards the Commander. Their eyes met, the Commander not bothering to hide his concern over what was going to happen next. His hands were flexing now, his fists tightening below his tightly bound wrists. He was ready to fight, but Kenny most certainly was not. Nor was he willing to have a really long night. RJ was very right. The Commander needed to sleep and rest. He would never be willing to listen or understand RJ's rationale about how they were meant to be together. RJ wanted to take care of him. Make sure he was happy and wanted for nothing.

Stuck on that wheel of self-validation, afraid of RJ, and also afraid of the man sitting in front of him, Kenny found himself whispering to himself over and over again. "You need me. You need me." _RJ needed him to help. He needed him to provide the medication and dispense it properly more than ever before._

"Not my fault," Kenny murmured out loud. "I did good. I did everything just the way you said and you need me."

He looked down at himself, embarrassed. Upset ... _afraid_ of what RJ had made him do to himself. His fingers were shaking. They were slick and tacky with a combination of blood and sweat. He winced as he glanced to his arm. It hurt and he couldn't stop his lip from shaking. _It hurt_.

"Not _mine..._ it's not my fault. I did what you wanted; the room ... it's _good_ ," he repeated, once more petrified of what he'd done wrong because he didn't understand. "Okay and yes. The meds yes! I promise … I _promise_!"

"Kenny. Stop it," the Commander suddenly said, his tone quiet but authoritative. "Take care of your arm."

Kenny shuddered clear down to his toes when his mantra to RJ was interrupted. The soft tone was disturbing and distracting; and for that brief instant, Kenny forgot about RJ's dire whispers. In fact, his mind went blank and he forgot just about everything.

"Kenny, did you hear me?"

"W-what?" Kenny stammered nervously as he focused on the man seated before him.

"And the room is fine," McGarrett said next without being prompted. "It's perfectly fine … so take care of your arm. I want you to take care of your arm. Right now … clean up."

"I … I …," Kenny whispered in confusion. He stood rooted to the ground, thin rivulets of blood oozing to roll down his wrist. He stared in wonderment for a few more seconds at the Commander, unsure of what to do or say. McGarrett's eyes were not friendly at all, his face said he wasn't very pleased and yet, his tone was calm. He was talking to Kenny and even had called him by name.

Petrified of RJ's potentially volatile reaction, Kenny tentatively polled RJ for direction and heard nothing at all. Kenny waffled then, completely uncertain about what to make of the situation. Should he talk? Should he do as the Commander wanted? And if he did, what would be the harm because … _because_ … the room was fine.

"Fine. Fine. Fine," Kenny softly chanted under his breath, his goal blatantly obvious. He meant to soothe the suddenly far too quiet RJ. Provide a reason and explanation. Help RJ understand that the Commander - RJ's _boyfriend_ \- was all right with things.

"See! _See_! He said it was _fine_ … not my fault. Not. No. _Not_!"

"Kenny?" The Commander interrupted him a second time, his voice firm. "Calm down ... it's good. It's not your fault ... it's good." Despite being undeniably cautious, McGarrett was just as calm. Not friendly but still nearly soothing in his quiet instructions. Kenny met his gaze again, scared and confused, his arm throbbing from the series of thin cuts which RJ had inflicted upon him. Now, apparently for no good reason at all.

Unless the Commander was lying to him or, worse ... making fun of him.

"It's okay," McGarrett insisted.

"See, _see_!" Kenny whispered again as he looked at the seated Commander. Inside, he felt an unexpected surge of pure, unadulterated joy tempered almost instantly by an unlikely feeling of anger towards RJ. Kenny never got mad at RJ and the feeling was unfamiliar. But as he looked at his arm, the painful series of bleeding cuts, and then glanced towards the trapped man, Kenny felt … _resentful_.

 _Unless McGarrett was making fun of him,_ Kenny reminded himself. Maybe though, RJ had been wrong … the room was _good_ and he'd been punished for nothing? Maybe the Commander was lying to him ... playing a bad trick. Making fun of him like everyone did. Kenny shook his head, confused, a low moan eking out from inside his chest.

"Be careful, buddy boy," RJ whispered sarcastically. "Trick ... it's a trick."

"It's okay?" Kenny asked quietly, his distrust showing as RJ laughed softly at him. _RJ laughed_ ... and yet, Kenny's lips quivered with pent up emotion when the 5-0 Commander merely nodded, his eyes never leaving Kenny's face.

"Yes. The room is okay ….nothing's wrong with the room," McGarrett repeated evenly. "Go and take care of your arm."

Kenny cringed at the quiet words, the threat that was RJ still wavering inside his head. The warning that this was a trick still there. He couldn't just do what the Commander was telling him. _Could he?_ He polled RJ, looking for direction ... even approval. _What harm was there in caring for his injured arm?_ Instead of direction, Kenny discovered that RJ was backing off just enough to allow him some time to think. A bit of time to make his own decision as long as he didn't _what_?

Didn't forget ... the drugs.

 _'Drugs',_ RJ repeated his warnings. _'Don't forget … he needs to sleep … sleep … he needs to be ready to understand.'_

"I'll do it … I promise. I'll do it," Kenny muttered in response to RJ's demands. He would. He _would_ and he'd do it right … he wouldn't forget. He would do it right because RJ wanted it and Kenny had to go to work the next morning. He couldn't afford to mess up or make any mistakes at all.

But now? Kenny paused and focused back on McGarrett's face, cradling his bloody arm to his chest.

"Kenny, go clean up," McGarrett prodded as Kenny's eyes met the man's steely gaze. "You're bleeding ... take care of it."

"Okay," Kenny said as he nodded, this time moving. This time, leaving McGarrett sitting there. Still bound to the chair. Still trapped as he took the time to do what he'd been told.

**H5O* H5O**

"Jesus," Steve whispered as he let out a long weary breath after the crazed man left the room. "What the hell is going on."

He closed his eyes, his chin falling to rest on his chest. He was exhausted. His mouth was bone-dry and that tannic medicinal scent was stuck in his sinuses, coating his tongue and making him feel nauseous. Partly from stress and partly due to the drugs still in his system, the base of his skull held a dull throb. He was desperate to sleep just on his own; he sure didn't need to have more of anything else flooding his system. 

Without knowing what he was truly dealing with, he'd taken a terrible risk just then. Incredibly, it had paid off in a big way. It had bought him some time alone.  Most importantly, it had kept Kenny away from the drugs and delayed the inevitable next dose of - _God knew what -_ which had been laid out for him on the tall bureau. He knew this current win wouldn't last long at all though. It was infinitesimal at best and Steve was well aware that Kenny ... or RJ ... would be returning very soon. But he'd take the time granted him now as his eye fell down, towards the splatters of blood and the small rectangular sliver of metal. Stained with blood and less than two feet away from where Steve now sat, during his inane ramblings, Kenny had allowed the razor blade to slip from his bloody fingers.

He stared at it, fighting the residual chemical-induced mustiness inside of his head to come up with a rudimentary plan. The blade was small but Steve had done more with less. It would do if he could just get his hands on it. Steve glanced towards the door, acknowledging that Kenny had been sloppy there, too. It was open. Unlocked. His game advantage was building if he could just keep Kenny away from the damnable pile of drugs.  He thought he at least now knew a little bit about what he needed to do to distract the disturbed man and he was willing to try it for as long as it seemed to work. Honing this new but paper-thin dent which he'd made in Kenny's rather unhinged sensibilities would take require kid-gloves and a fair amount of creativity. He thought that he might be able to do just that.

Steve flexed his wrists and vainly pulled at his ankles. He was bound to the sturdy chair with wide, hospital-grade canvas straps. Getting free without help was going to be a fruitless effort. He needed to wait. Time things perfectly while taking into consideration the fact that his own reflexes would be off and dulled. Take into account the plain truth that Kenny just might really drug him again.  Accept that Kenny might have already planned a great many things well in advance - things which Steve likely wasn't even aware of - to keep him in line and intentionally weakened.

Steve swallowed hard, his thoughts inadvertently going elsewhere.  _Danny at the diner on the Big Island ... lost ... injured_. _Confused_.  Kenny had done all of that to Danny - he'd first tried his hardest to kill him - and Steve held little regard for his captor.  Staying on course was going to be a difficult venture and Steve cursed under his breath as his anger flared because he just couldn't afford that kind of emotion.

 _No_. _No_ , he couldn't go there just yet. Steve needed to shelve his own worried thoughts about Danny and lock them away in favor of neutralizing a threat; managing his emotions to gain the upper hand. He was sure that no one knew where he was or who he was with. Kenny's existence under their very noses had been quite literally beneath their combined radar for _months_. In fact, Kenny might have been lurking for a longer period based solely on the state of the room Steve was now caged within -- the potential age of the oldest media clippings and photographs assembled from his personal timeline was downright frightening. 

Steve had to assume that no one else on his team could possibly know about Kenny Ingraham just yet. So for now, Steve was on his own. He needed to find a way to work the situation. Chuffing a soft disgusted noise, Steve looked towards the door and then gauged his distance to the razor blade. Beyond that was the bed similarly equipped with hospital-grade restraints.

"Fuck that," Steve muttered angrily under his breath when he eyed the pre-arranged setup. There was no way in hell that he'd be participate in a certain _undertaking_ \- drugged or otherwise.

He would help himself by making plans and he could lie. He could leverage Kenny's fear of him against the fear of his own alter-personality. Be willing to take a few risks along the way, too. Including, taking the risk of accidentally deploying any of the currently unknown triggers which might bring that dangerous RJ raging to the fore. Something which Steve was more than willing to do.

Resolute about his initial plan, Steve studiously ignored the razor blade and readied himself when he heard a tell-tale foot-step in the hallway.

_**~ to be continued ~** _


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not own Hawaii Five-0 or any characters. No copyright infringement intended.
> 
> Notes: the muse said this deserved it's own chapter unto itself. I no longer argue ... I just go w the flow! Again caveats abound! When it comes to meds, I'm only as smart as what I can Google! ;-) Not beta'd - if you see a mistake, please let me know.

 

**H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O**

 

Kenny stood in front of Steve, fidgety as hell and afraid to look Steve directly in the eye. He'd cleaned up and bandaged his arm as he'd been told. He'd then returned as Steve knew he would. But his hands were twitching and he looked scared, uncertain. Frankly, not much change there in the short span of time Steve had been so unlucky enough to know the man. However, what he had in one hand was creating exactly the same response in Steve. Within milliseconds, Steve had forgotten about the razor blade lying within the small puddle of blood on the floor. He squirmed uneasily in the chair, pulling harder against the bindings on his wrists, trying to free an ankle. The razor blade and his flimsy plans no longer existed.

He had a much bigger issue on his hands because Kenny was holding a syringe.

"What's going on Kenny?" Steve asked warily. "What do you think you're going to do?"

"You have to take your meds now," Kenny replied nervously. His voice quivered. His eyes were glassy as they skated around the room, first settling on Steve's face, then over to the bureau, and finally back to Steve's face. "I don't want to have to give you this … it's a bad one. Real bad. But RJ said … he said I _had_ to if you didn't cooperate."

"Cooperate? No. I'm not going to _take_ anything," Steve growled out. "And you're not going to stick me with that either."

Steve tried to do what he'd done before. Keeping his voice quiet and firm, he tried to defuse Kenny's thought pattern through distraction. By using an authoritative but non-threatening tone. For all he tried though, Kenny merely shook his head as if some mental war was taking place inside it. And no doubt, Steve now knew for a fact that a major skirmish was indeed in progress.

"Kenny, put that down," Steve tried anyway, knowing it wasn't going to work this time when Kenny heaved in a lungful of air. As he watched, his trepidation growing, Kenny expelled it all in a rush while tapping his temple meaningfully with a finger. For whatever reason, that small gesture sent a chill straight down Steve's spine. Something was about to happen and he wasn't going to like it at all.

"Kenny,..." Steve swallowed hard as Kenny rapped a knuckle now even harder against the side of his head. The man's face looked almost apologetic despite his fear.

"Listen to me ..."

"NO! No, you have to pick. You have to," Kenny interrupted, his voice rising in pitch and the words punching out faster and faster. His eyes were already the size of saucer plates as he knuckled his temple even more, creating a reddened bruise.

" _Have_ to … have to! He said so ... RJ says you have to pick ... and it will be bad, so bad if you don't do as he says."

"Kenny ... listen ... calm down. All right?" Steve tried one more time and then stopped cold as the budding transformation picked up speed. Kenny's eyes had suddenly slid closed. His face had become impassive. He stilled and quieted, his lips slightly parted. He quite inconceivably looked younger, oddly composed. Then he simply shrugged with an unexpected nonchalance and when he opened his eyes again, they were hard. Intense. Deeply transfixed on Steve. The difference in personality between Kenny and RJ was startling.

Confident and proud, RJ looked directly into Steve's face, drinking his presence in, while a calculated grin quirked his lips upwards.  "Hello, Steve ..."

"Shit ... _shit_ ," Steve whispered as a very real fear twisted his stomach into shreds. He vainly tugged against the chair, pulling harder, his heart thundering as RJ took a few steps closer, the syringe between them.

"What's the matter, Steve?" RJ asked quietly, his smile warm and his attitude mildly amused. "You seem mad ... but if you give me a chance, I'm going to make you so, so happy." He reached out towards Steve face with two fingers, wanting to touch him, caress his cheek. He paused in mid-air when Steve jerked his head sideways, his eyes blazing.

"You're out of your mind," Steve said. "You're ... insane."

"No, no not really," RJ purred sickeningly. "In fact, I'm so ... nice. I'm allowing you two choices, sweetheart,"

"Really, and what would those be … RJ," Steve spat out angrily as he eyed the syringe.

"Take your meds willingly," and RJ gestured towards the row of pill bottles on the bureau. "Or, buddy boy here, is going to have to use the big guns and like he said, this one is a bad one. So pick … Steve."

"No," Steve replied. "No, no I won't." He didn't know what he'd expected in response to what he saw as his obvious answer. A series of coaxing pleas? More conversation on the pros and cons of why he needed to pick one versus the other? A discourse on why he should obey the crazed man standing in front of him? He didn't know what he'd expected or what might really happen next, but it certainly wasn't what RJ actually did.

"Okay then, I get to choose for you," RJ said, grinning widely, his eyes twinkling as he stalked forward and simply plunged the syringe into Steve's upper thigh.

"You son of a bitch!" Steve shouted as he pointlessly fought his bindings, the heavy chair creaking under his struggling weight. Unable to do a damned thing about it, Steve was stuck as he watched RJ dispense the contents of the small vial directly into his muscle. Almost instantly, his thigh painfully burned, the heat leaking outwards, the sensation, frightening. "What the hell is that … what have you done?!"

"I don't have time to negotiate with you, sweetheart. So, this is a little something Kenny used to take when he got a little too … upset," RJ explained as if it were the most rational thing in the world. "In fact, all of the meds, were his at one time or another. He's got quite the private stash of shit ... and when it comes to how to use this stuff? He's pretty damned good ... and even I've picked up on a few interesting things."

With that pronouncement, RJ took a deep breath, his eyes closing dramatically as he parroted back a well-learned medical explanation.

"Olanzapine is an antipsychotic used to treat various mental disorders such as bipolar episodes, schizophrenia or depression. For adults in an acute agitated state, the recommended method of treatment is an immediate-release intramuscular injection of 10 mg. Common side effects include blurred vision, problems walking, difficulty speaking, impaired vision, loss of balance, and odd, uncontrolled movements. The most common being somnolence. After being dispensed, the patient must be watched closely up to three hours for signs of more severe complications such as confusion, disorientation, severe drowsiness …. Including, risk of coma."

When he was done with his speech, RJ opened his eyes and shrugged while cocking his head quizzically towards Steve. He chuffed a soft laugh as he leaned forward, his hands on his knees to peer closely into Steve's face. "I'm sorry, sweetheart. I didn't want to have to do that. But until you get how this is going to work between me and you, you're just too … dangerous. Plus, it's late and there's work to go to tomorrow. Kenny has a certain _face_ to put forward at the Palace. How do you feel? Okay?"

Heart thundering inside his chest, Steve opened his mouth, but he had no idea what he thought he might say. He was beyond shocked … for the first time, in a long time … he was genuinely scared as RJ's features blurred and lost focus. _This couldn't be happening._ Neither Kenny nor RJ had any concept of reality. There was no accountability between either personality ... no empathy. Not even towards each other.

"Sweetheart? Can you look at me?" Steve groaned as a wave of dizziness and exhaustion hit him so hard, that his head literally lolled to the left. "Here ... here let me help."

He felt RJ's fingers cupping his cheek, holding his chin up. Steve couldn't focus on a face that was much too close to his. All muscular control was gone as he tried to jerk away from the man's touch, helplessly failing. It was too late. The drug was working like lightning, wreaking havoc on his system as it moved through his bloodstream.

"Here now … let's get you comfortable."

Steve moaned in desperation when his head sagged back down and he felt RJ's fingers start to unbuckle the straps to his ankles. A moment later, his wrists were freed. He twitched, tried to fight back, but nothing would work as he was lifted to his feet and then bodily toted over to the bed where he was gently laid down. He tried to push RJ away, failing again. His arms lacked strength and coordination. All of his limbs flopped uselessly to the side as the man arranged him on his back.

"G-get 'way," Steve forced out as he tried to focus on the face leering down at him. Instead, RJ cooed nonsensical noises, re-fastening his wrists and ankles to the restraints attached to the bed's iron frame. For good measure, a heavy canvas band was tightened across Steve's chest. Then, RJ pulled the blankets up next, as if making sure Steve was pleasantly tucked in and comfortable.

"I didn't want to have to do that on our first night," RJ whispered as he tentatively ghosted his fingers over Steve's face. An inquisitive finger trailing behind to trace the outline of his lips. "But you left me no choice and I need time to convince you. To show you … to help you understand … learn and see that my way … for us … is best."

"S'wear God," Steve muttered as RJ reverently petted his hair, his attempts at getting away pathetic as the man grew braver, his fingers simply following Steve's weaker movements. A lethargy was spreading though Steve's body at a frightening pace and there was nothing he could do about it. His struggle eventually ceased and his eyes closed to the hazy sight of RJ's face, the gleaming white of his teeth appearing over-sized, predatory.

"Remember what Kenny said? You need to have someone with you while you sleep now," RJ whispered in a soft lilting tone as he retraced Steve's lips as if fascinated by them, pausing when Steve grimaced in distaste, only to start over again. "Just in case …just in case you have a reaction to the medication. Remember what he said - at least three hours, baby? Remember that he said this could be bad? So ... I have an idea. I can stay right here with you. Right here... this is best. We can both fit."

" _N-nnnn_ ," Steve moaned as he tried to refuse what happened next. Face furrowing in an even deeper distress, Steve felt RJ ease into the bed next to him, curling into his side. He was staying on top of the blankets but his closeness was disturbing nonetheless … _horrifying_.

Unable to do anything about it, Steve felt the weight of one of RJ's legs fall over his own. An arm was then draped possessively over his chest as the man's head found the pillow of his shoulder.

"Go to sleep, sweetheart," RJ murmured softly. "Sleep now."

" _N-nnnn_ ," Steve moaned one last time to the sound of a contented sigh as tufts of RJ's hair tickled across his chin. He was completely helpless as strange fingers wended far too comfortably through his own.

_**~ to be continued ~** _


	18. Chapter 18

 

**H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O**

 

Danny sat on the edge of their bed holding his head in his hands. It was a few minutes after dawn. The sun was peeking up and casting a multitude of colors across the ocean, promising that it would shine on another beautiful day in paradise. This would have been much the same time Steve would have been bouncing up out of bed for the insanity of his near daily swim, a quiet teasing breath of air whispered in Danny's ear to join him as he left. Knowing he wouldn't.

_Lobbing a chaste kiss on Danny's forehead just as Danny would be rolling over, burying himself under the blankets to hide away for at least another hour's worth of sleep._

A breath seized in Danny's chest as his mind briefly wandered. Knowledge of Steve's ritual wasn't what had woken him up though; far be it from him to wake as if in concert with Steve's usual daily schedule. Enveloped in sadness, Danny winced at the sharp pains in his stomach. _No_ , he hadn't channeled Steve's inner alarm clock at all. The gravity of a nightmare had done that well enough.

He was covered in sweat, shaking and two steps away from vomiting all over the floor. The combinations of stress, lack of sleep, and the occasional poor bite to eat had brought on the inevitable migraine, followed by a desperate need to take his meds. He hadn't wanted to resort to the strong medications, but he'd had no choice. His body had revolted on him with a vengeance, bringing on a crash which he couldn't hope to power through. He'd been forced to go home by his team with Lou as his shepherd. The big man had spent the night downstairs standing guard for him ... over him. A quiet, strong presence in case he might be needed.

Needed? The joke of that word wasn't lost on Danny because he didn't know what do to do any more and he genuinely didn't care if he was alone or not. _He was good for nothing times two._

In just a few short short hours, it didn't matter what he did or didn't do. With RJ's incredible success in getting to Steve, Danny simply didn't matter anymore even if his team didn't quite agree.

So as he sat there on the edge of the mattress, fighting to keep his queasy stomach at bay, the visitation by the mother of all nightmares was only the icing on the cake. Eyes closed, Danny heaved in a juddering breath. He was partly still stuck in the throes of the nightmare, but he wasn't shaking it off. He kept letting it happen. This time, he refused to let it go - he embraced every terrible aspect of it, even if it might be contrived by his addled brain - because RJ's voice was stuck in his head and it was all he had. So maybe parts of it were real. It was possible. The images had to be forged in some kind of truth. _Right_? So, just maybe he'd find something worthwhile. Some kind of value because he was admittedly desperate.

 _"Come on. Someone had to have seen! Hurry it up!"_ The voices were inside his head and he could see ... _the smoking ruin of his car._ He could remember _t_ _he smell … the foul odor of burned out rubber, metal on metal._

He saw shapes in his mind's eye and tried to make them whole. He heard words - _RJ's voice_ \- and tried to listen better, forcing his brain to fast forward or rewind to those parts over and over again.

_"Get him up! I don't care about the blood…I want him gone. I want McGarrett looking in all the wrong places."_

_"He won't survive this. He'll be dead by morning … that'll teach him to fuck with me."_ _His head had been pulled back by the roots of his hair_ and he saw _... the dim profile of a man in front of him._

_"Hang on buddy-boy," the snide voice had jested just before he'd been brutally shoved down ... down ... down. "McGarrett ain't ever gonna find you way the hell out here. And by the time someone … might … there ain't gonna be 'nuthin left to ID."_

"Steve … I'm sorry. I can't do this ... I can't come up with a damned thing," Danny suddenly whispered under his breath, his face collapsing with grief stricken, disbelieving tears.

"Danny?" He looked up slowly, too tired and heart sick to care what he might look like, meeting Lou's worried expression. He hardly cared how long the man had been standing there in front of him. He was only thankful that Lou didn't ask him if he was all right. That would have been a ludicrous question. Insulting even.

"Yeah," Danny choked out. "What's up ... anything?" His questions were tired by now and said automatically, but this time Lou nodded. His expression was cautious but he'd ... _nodded_ and Danny's eyes widened in surprise.

"We might have something. You know that Kono's been all over the flights coming and going off the Big Island?" Lou explained as Danny just about staggered to his feet. "Well, we have four aircraft and related flight plans that could fit ... based on day and timing ... where they originated from to where they landed. Their length of stay. An anomaly in a flight pattern, or two."

Lou hadn't even finished speaking and Danny was staggering past, rudely elbowing by the bigger man.

"Good, let's go," Danny said brusquely. "Tell me on the way."

They got to the office just as Kono was finishing pulling up the files on the four flights in question, along with the four pilots and manifests associated to each. Chin was in his office, talking on the phone. Danny barely acknowledged them as he leaned against the smart table, willing himself to remember at least one of the four ... no _two_ Danny thought to himself as he quickly discounted two of the pilots featured front and center.

"Obviously, Eleanor Hart is not a likely contender," Kono agreed about the lone female pilot in the mix when she saw his expression. "She goes by the name Lennie, so I wasn't sure at first ... and we'll do our diligence to be sure because the flight plan alone is enough to follow up on and I'm not taking any chances. But of the three left ...?"

"Two .. of the two left," Danny muttered to himself, already worried that their list of suspects had halved themselves. But he did a double-take towards Kono because she'd paused intentionally. She was waiting for him to pay attention to her because she'd found something of import.

"Which one?" Danny asked bluntly. He waved a hand indicating one of the two he assumed it to be, but was surprised when she shook her head to negate his first impressions.

"No, the one in the middle," Kono corrected him as she enlarged the photograph and related personal details of the man she held in question. "Miles Abernathy. Thirty-four, he operated a small charter service off Oahu for twelve years. Small but lucrative. Great reputation ... a real stand-up kind of guy."

Danny frowned because the handsome African-American man he was looking at wasn't matching up at all with any of his miserable memories no matter how disorienting they were. He didn't match what they could see in the snippet of video the morning Steve had been taken.

"But...that's not him ... I think ...," Danny muttered, upset and confused as Kono gently nudged into him. He ignored her meaningful attempt at playfulness, his tone impatient as he gestured to the others. "What about the other two?"

"I know what you're thinking and you _are_ right, Danny. It's not him at all. But look," she insisted, her smile growing as she pulled up certain records she'd cross-matched. "He's _deceased_ , Danny. Over five years ago now. And yet, look ... I'm finding flight plans supposedly filed by Miles Abernathy - and one in particular matches when you went missing."

"His identify was stolen," Danny murmured in surprise. "Identity and ... pilot's credentials." _Now what though?_ His tired brain was crunching away on the implications. Trying to understand what they needed to do next if Abernathy's credentials and identity were stolen. Despite being so much closer now, their unsub still had no face and was still an unknown.

"Exactly," Kono grinned, her tone ecstatic. "I'm running the registration numbers on the planes now," she explained as if reading his mind. "Ownership records ... transfer records ... give me an hour since some of that might be bogus. But I'll have anything you've ever wanted to know on each of these four, especially the one that this Abernathy's been piloting. I'm sending whatever I find to the Big Island so the authorities there can work it from their side."

Danny nodded dumbly. His hands were shaking again. They had something. Something of real value, yet he didn't dare smile just yet even if Kono was pulling him into a gentle hug.

"We're getting him back," Kono whispered softly into his ear before she released him. "This is it ... I can feel it. Get some rest until I do, okay? You look tired, Danny."

"Okay, yeah," he replied quietly. "Let me know what you find out." He still had nothing to do. Nothing to contribute. His stomach was still in knots, wracked with pain and he nodded skittishly, needing a break already. He was sure that he was going to be sick.

He left them for the bathroom sensing that Lou was wandering aimlessly on his heels and likely to loiter protectively out in the hallway. He'd won a personal watch-dog in the older man and Danny was generally fine with it. Steve would have approved it, too.

Danny entered the large common bathroom alone and leaned both hands against one of the sinks, staring at his reflection, fighting his body's desire to cave in. He was unsurprised by the way he looked. His eyes were bloodshot, red-rimmed. His face was pale and he looked as sick as he felt. Kono had been kind to say that he merely looked _tired_. In an attempt to forestall his ever-increasing rise in nausea, he turned the water faucets to splash water on his face and over the back of his neck. Then he just stayed there, eyes closed, breathing in through his nose and out through his mouth, wondering how long he could prevent himself from actually vomiting.

"He better be okay today, buddy boy."

The sound of those soft words came from behind him and Danny froze in place. So softly whispered, that at first, he wasn't sure he'd heard anything at all. But then, he heard a sniffle. An odd whimper and he stilled, just listening.

"I was careful. Careful. He'll be okay." A voice whined quietly.

"He better stay that way."

"I promise ... I _promise_."

Danny held his breath as he seemingly studied himself in the mirror, in reality listening to the soft hum of a person whispering frenetically to himself. Or was it voices? No, it was one person Danny thought, but an argument? Was someone talking to himself then - having a quiet argument of sorts in one of the stalls behind him? He turned and bent a bit, looking until he spied the single pair of black work boots in the furthest and larger handicapped stall.

"Don't fuck with me, buddy boy. I mean it. Don't you dare fuck with me."

"Buddy boy ... _buddy boy,_ " Danny whispered under his breath and his eyes widened even more. A jolt went down clear to his toes and his heart clenched unexpectedly. He _knew_ that phrase. He _knew_ those words. His dream. The nightmare.

 _"Hang on buddy-boy..."_ The feelings of being shoved. _Falling_. Tumbling head over heels. Danny practically swayed against the sink as those memories came strong and hard.

Still, he shook his head, denying what he was hearing for a few moments. He couldn't be hearing this, could he? Was he so sick that his mind was playing cruel tricks on him? But the voice was real. This person was really frantically - no, almost manically - talking to himself in the bathroom stall.

"I won't, I'm not ... I promise." The voice whined next and eyes ever wide, Danny felt his fingers curl into fists. His response was visceral. Instinctive. This was the voice inside his head ... perhaps the timbre was a bit different from sentence to sentence, from word to word. But, this was it. This was the man.

As he listened, tense and alert, Danny had now completely forgotten how sick he'd been feeling. This was real. This was happening. But it was the next words which set him into motion.

"RJ... I swear, I did it right!"

"Lou! _LOU_!" Danny shouted for help as he stormed down the tiled floor and with an indecipherable roar of fury, kicked the stall door wide open with his foot. The metal door squealed on its cheap hinges and then rebounded off the back of the man standing inside. Danny barely registered that the man was there with his gray uniform top hanging around his waist. He kicked at the door again when it swung back into his face, not really seeing the bloodied bandages on the man's one arm, nor the look of fear in the dark eyes.

"Who the hell are you! Where is he?!" Danny shouted as he violently yanked the janitor out from the stall with both hands. Without giving him a chance to reply, Danny cracked him squarely in the jaw with his fist, then let a second fly fast after that one. Pummeling him straight down to the floor.

"Where is he ... _where_?!"

The janitor wheezed in fear as he vainly tried to scrabble away, his injured arm held high to ward off Danny's blows. Incapable of replying, he began to scream and babble in fear, blood streaming down his face where his cheek had been split open.

"Danny!" Lou called out, his weapon drawn as he slammed the main door open. "What the hell's going on?!"

"Jesus, Lou!" Danny shouted as he stalked the janitor down, fists swinging one after the other as he chased him into a corner. Blood was now freely running from the janitor's nose and mouth, but Danny couldn't stop. He _wouldn't_ stop as he cocked his right arm back with an infuriated growl.

"Where the fuck is he?!"

But his next punch never connected as Lou swept him clear off his feet, inserting himself firmly between Danny and the cowering janitor. "Get the fuck off me! He knows where he is ... he knows where Steve is!" Danny growled out in anger as he pushed against Lou's hands and tried to elbow himself free.

"Then we need 'em alive!" Lou shouted back as he gave Danny a stern shake while his arms stayed wrapped around him in a bear hug. "Danny! STOP! Make 'em talk. Get Steve ... then kill this bastard later! I'll happily help you do it, but calm down, man! Hold up!"

But Danny was lost to all reason as he fought the big man's hands. He was out for blood when Kono and Chin ran in just seconds later, guns also drawn. He was still intent on beating the janitor half to death even as the crazed man began to sob inanely, his words just understandable as bloody spittle fell from his lips.

"It's not my fault! _It's not my fault! He made me do it!"_

_**~ to be continued ~** _


	19. Chapter 19

**H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O**

 

Danny stood up against the far wall in the rendition room next to Chin, his heart stuck somewhere up inside his mouth. He was completely in shock as he watched Lou Grover attempt an interrogation gone dramatically sideways.

Thirty-one minutes earlier, no matter what Danny had heard acted out in the bathroom, he still hadn't quite gotten it. None of them had. But the sniveling buffoon of a janitor had disappeared at the twenty-two minute mark and not a single one of them knew what to do about it. Up until that point and for those initial nine solid minutes, things had been easy if not frustrating. Danny had explained what he'd heard in the bathroom. Kenny had admitted to knowing RJ but then, was too afraid to give him up. He knew that RJ had Steve and yet refused to say anything more. As Kenny had sat there, pretty much denying direct responsibility for anything and everything, the closest HPD units had been dispatched to his residence. Kono had started to pull everything she could find on Kenneth Ingraham, expecting to find an _RJ_ or someone of his ilk within a list of associates.

Twenty-three minutes earlier things had dramatically started to unravel with no hopes of stopping. Lou had had to pull Danny off the janitor once more, relegating the furious detective to the farthest corner of the rendition room. Then both he and Chin had taken over, pushing hard, peppering the newly roughed up man with questions and threats. And it had seemingly started to work because Kenny had begun to caterwaul, albeit nonsensically, about Danny's car accident and then Steve's abduction, blaming everything he'd had to do on RJ. And still, not one of them had quite understood what they had on their hands because they'd been so rabidly focused on using the janitor to get to one key individual.

 _RJ_. The man with no last name. No address. No phone. The man who really did have Steve.

Needing to do something, Danny had been practically out the door at that point, willing to do a ride-along with one of the back-up units. But that had been before RJ had appeared in all his glory to take over from the sniveling wreck that was Kenny Ingraham. For the last twenty-two minutes the tide had turned; been flipped on its head. Regardless of what he'd heard in the bathroom, at first Danny hadn't been the only one of them to believe what was happening to be an elaborate joke. To scoff at what was a novel attempt at manipulation. Now though? Things were very different indeed.

Leaning up against the wall, Danny felt disembodied. Separated from his own understanding of reality. Their attacker had been working and living right under their very noses. They'd never suspected a damned thing! He now also knew that Steve wasn't at Kenny's - or was it really RJ's? - residence, too. Minutes after being dispatched when Kenny had still been Kenny, those closest HPD units had come up dead empty. In fact, they'd reported that the small apartment had looked virtually deserted. Un-lived in for months.

They thought that they now knew why though. In the least, their eyes had finally been opened to a frightening array of possibilities based upon their suspect who was quite incomprehensibly suffering from dissociative identity disorder. They literally couldn't trust anything they might find or were being told.

Feeling sick inside as he shakily blotted sweat from his brow, Danny glanced up to the camera. It had been Chin's idea to contact the police's department psychologist in the interim and at that very moment, the man was upstairs no doubt paying rapt attention to the live video feed and to the ongoing farce of an interrogation. Though he'd been informed otherwise, Danny didn't remember ever having met the kindly Doctor Lau in his life. Regardless, the small, portly man seemed ill-equipped for the likes of Kenny Ingraham. He strongly suspected that what was going on was probably the doctor's very own wet dream. In Danny's opinion, Chin's idea had been a sound one, but he felt it would wind up being useless to them in the long run.

"You're tougher than you look, buddy boy. You should be dead, you know that?"

Danny's eyes snapped down from the camera and his musings, to RJ's face. The man was literally sneering at him in contempt, the smear of blood from his damaged nose arcing down over his mouth, to his chin, making him look macabre.

"You fucking bastard!" Danny hissed as he reacted instantly, surging forward with a growl, only stopped by Chin who had to resort to holding him bodily against the wall.

"Easy _brah._ Easy ... that's not going to work. Not in this case," Chin whispered softly. "There's no reasoning with this one."

"Shut up!" Lou Grover ground out as he threatened to back-hand the seated criminal. "You've got nuthin' to say to him! The only thing that I wanna hear coming outta your mouth is the location of Commander McGarrett!"

"Don't you just wish," RJ laughed nastily. His grin was cocky and overly confident as he looked up into Lou's face, then twisted his head to peer around the man's broad body to catch Danny's eye. "If I can't have him ... no one will. No one. And Kenny isn't going to tell you a damned thing about it either. Because he knows that if he does, I'll cut him up again."

"Cut ... _cut_ him up? Chin, do you know what he's saying? Do you?" Danny choked out hoarsely as he fought the Asian's strong grip. Bile rose in his throat as he glanced to Kenny Ingraham's bandaged arm where splotches of red marred the once white gauze. _He'd seriously cut himself?_ He'd literally _punished_ himself ... one personality against the other? Danny strangled out a sharp stunned laugh, his eyes widening in shock. "He's _insane_ ... he's not going to say a damned thing about Steve!"

"I know, I know," Chin replied, his eyes dark with barely checked emotion. "But we'll find Steve. We will." He glanced over to the door to the rendition room as it buzzed open, not too surprised to see his cousin entering.

"He doesn't have to tell us a damned thing, guys. I know where Steve is," Kono announced proudly as she charged into the room. She stalked past Chin and Danny to stand at Lou's side, her arms confidently crossed.

"Captain Ralph Ingraham, Jr., Pilot. U.S. Air Force, retired. Millie Ingraham, housewife and doting mother of one son. Those ... _were_ Kenny's parents, right RJ? The Captain taught Kenny how to fly, didn't he? Maybe he thought having a goal would help his son and Kenny was good, too. But I'm only guessing. And it doesn't matter because Kenny lost his pilot's license due to his ... psychiatric issues."

RJ shrugged, aloof and apparently uninterested in Kono's information. "So? So what," he spat out.

"So," Kono continued with a pleased smile. "So, Captain Ingraham died 4 years ago. He left Millie and his very disturbed son a lovely home over on the Windward side of the Island. A real nice two story in Waimanalo ... which went to Kenny when Millie died 18 months ago. _And so_ , he's there now, isn't he ... am I right RJ? It's where Commander McGarrett is right now."

"Kono?" Danny asked in disbelief as Chin kept a steadying hand on his arm when he awkwardly lurched forward again. He wasn't sure he heard her right at first. But the odd look which crossed over RJ's face was all the validation that he'd needed.

"Let's go," Chin said. "Now, let's go people. Now!"

"I'll stay with our new _friends_ ," Kono drawled calmly, her own expression one of triumph as RJ glared mutinously up into her face. "I'm learning so much about him and Kenny ... so, so much."

**H5O* H5O**

He lay on his back, tethered to the bed despite the fact that he was wholly incapable of moving, drifting back and forth in a half state of twilight. Steve thought he could hear things though. Sometimes. Faint sounds, far away noises that he imagined could be Kenny or God help him, RJ. Then again what did it matter since both personalities were equally dangerous for entirely different reasons. He was helpless to the whim of either of them.

Steve vaguely remembered rousing towards dawn, his mind still musty and feeling terribly _off_. He'd been quite happily alone though. RJ had gone sometime during the night. However, Kenny had soon come in to stand over him, jittery and scared. Dressed in his gray uniform, he'd been his usual nervous self, mumbling incessantly about not wanting to touch him. However, he'd ignored Steve's dry, raspy whispers of reason entirely in favor of following RJ's demands. Kenny had grasped Steve's jaw in its corners, forcing his mouth open in order to place a tablet on his tongue.

" _Oral meds,"_ Kenny had needlessly explained. _"This one's not too bad; you'll sleep more. He'll kill me if you get out."_

Steve had weakly tried to move his head away, close his mouth, or at least spit the medication out once the tablet had been slipped between his lips. But Kenny had kept his fingers wedged into his jaw hinges, hard enough to leave marks. He'd waited patiently for it to dissolve and then even a bit longer so that Steve's only recourse had been to swallow.

 _"No, it's gotta dissolve ... can't chew it,"_ Kenny had muttered nervously. _"Can't swallow it whole either."_ A short time later, Steve had started to feel weak and drowsy again and his head had started to throb thickly. Even lying down, Steve felt light-headed and dizzy. Kenny had then dribbled water carefully into his mouth, nervously explaining that he needed to wash it all down, plus that Steve at least needed to stay hydrated until the work day ended.

Rolling on that sickly tide, Steve moaned softly on a weak exhale. He couldn't open his eyes. Couldn't move at all. He listened though, thinking he heard faint sounds every now and again. A voice or voices ... possibly even feeling the residual sensation of a distant concussive thud. Imaginings, he dimly wondered as his thoughts scattered time and again. Steve allowed it all to happen, even when the loudest seemed to be right outside the bedroom. He lay there helpless in his partial state of being, assuming time had passed. Assuming that Kenny was back ... or RJ.

"Steve?" The air around him moved, a breeze wafting over his face. His name was called out repeatedly, desperate and frightened. Not by Kenny ... not by RJ.

"Steve ... God, _Steve_!"

He thought he smiled when he slowly understood he wasn't imagining Danny's voice ... Danny's presence. _Danny_.

Steve breathed out a soft sigh in abject relief at the sound of his partner's voice. Danny's voice was both distant and muffled, yet confusingly right next to him. A shadow flickered over his head, dimming the already soft light in the room. A kiss was placed on his forehead, fingers rubbed gently against his scalp, thumbing soft tufts of hair. Fingers that belonged there and that were tender, loving in their touch …but also trembling.

"Steve … can you hear me?" There was a tremor to Danny's voice too. Fear. Relief … mostly fear though and Steve wanted to reassure him, but couldn't. His entire body was overwhelmingly heavy and completely unresponsive. But he tried his best to at least smile.

"Please." Steve was kissed again around Danny's breathy pleas. The trembling lips which were pressed to his were stained with a lingering aftertaste of salty tears. "Steve … come on. _Please_."

Danny's voice sounded hoarse and it had fallen to just above a whisper. So low that on some level, Steve knew that Danny was struggling badly now to remain composed. Failing entirely a moment later when he heard the juddering inhale, a terse, louder call for help said to someone else who had to be in the room now. Calloused fingers left his hair to shakily find his neck and Steve knew then that he hadn't actually smiled or even twitched a finger. He hadn't sighed or said a damned thing. His body was a deadened weight and he was scaring his partner half to death.

Steve could definitely sense other figures in the room now, faintly picking up on odd shuffling sounds, feel the restraints on his wrists and ankles being removed and flung to the side. Unfamiliar hands moving quickly over his body, presumably checking for injuries. But Danny was still there, perched on the side of the bed, urgently whispering his name. Telling him that he was safe. Allowing Steve to focus on the soothing touch of Danny's fingers as they continually ran over his brow or through his hair, clasped his limp hand. The warm feel of a gentle, occasional kiss.

"Steven. Please ... can you hear me at all?" There was that plea still plaguing Danny's voice though as their lips gently met again. Steve fought harder this time, reading Danny's skyrocketing fear and his desperate need to be reassured that he was only _stuck_ , yet fine … things were going to be all right. As his name was whispered anxiously against his lips, Steve argued his body to kiss Danny back. Tired, weakly.

Steve kissed him back, responding as best he could to communicate that he was there and understood everything as he caught that salty hint of warm tears on Danny's lips. Steve hummed a soft sound then, doing his best to say that he was fine … _safe now_. Wholly relieved in his success when he heard Danny's breath catch in his throat and the quietest of sobs.

"We got him," Danny whispered brokenly around the tears in his voice. "We got him. And we're going home. You're going to be okay ... things are going to be okay now."

"Danno," Steve pushed Danny's name out on a weary exhale, his overly dry lips just able to brush against Danny's for one final moment before he quietly faded away into a deeper sleep.

_**~ to be continued ~** _


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not own Hawaii Five-0 or any characters. No copyright infringement intended.
> 
> Notes: not sure where this chapter came from ... but it's here. I'm calling it an "interlude". And yeah, still only as smart as Google and then not even that much as it relates to all things "medically contrived".

**H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O**

 

The doctors had been in and out of his room too many times to count over the last many hours. There were times when Steve had been aware of their poking and prodding, but more often, he hadn't been. By some miraculous feat, he'd also managed to communicate intelligibly enough for Danny to understand that _RJ_ hadn't actually done _more_ to him. In fact, Steve distinctly remembered that moment when he'd rallied just enough to rasp out a monosyllabic _no_ to Danny's near frenetic questioning. He'd remembered it because that one word had made a great deal of Danny's fear visibly melt away from his exhausted body.

However what Kenny had done at RJ's behest had certainly been enough.

The few drugs he'd dispensed into Steve's system at unknown dosages and undetermined frequencies had been liberal enough - wrong enough and certainly dangerous enough - to affect Steve's blood chemistry to warrant concerns. As a sedative-hypnotic, the Rohypnol had only been the start and scarily enough, the least of Steve's worries. The Olanzapine was just as dangerous as RJ had so kindly explained by rote to Steve after injecting him. But then the tablet which Kenny had forced on him had been in the same family of major tranquilizers, those things used as antipsychotics to manage a number of differing psychosis. Steve's prolonged difficulty in breathing, the dizziness, the extreme drowsiness, and general inability to function were all severe enough side effects to warrant ongoing supportive care.

Through it all, Danny had been steadfast by his side despite being nearly dead on his own two feet. Pushing not only himself well beyond his already taxed limits, but the medical staff as well.

Whenever Steve had been aware enough, he'd heard Danny's voice. Only Danny's voice. Strident. Sharp. Soothing towards him but certainly badgering of Steve's fine doctors. Fretting over the sheer volume of pill bottles and medications collected from Kenny's bedroom. Demanding to know precisely what had been forced into Steve's system and then, the never ending challenge to substantiate " _what the hell they were doing about it!"_

Even now as he opened his eyes to a dimly lit hospital room, gently woken by the night nurse, Steve heard those words inside his aching head. Despite the amnesia, Danny was absolutely still _Danny_ and in no small way did Steve find himself genuinely relieved by that fact.

"You're looking better," the nurse whispered as she checked his oxygen. "Much, much better."

Steve doubted that. He felt pretty much like crap and he arched what he hoped was a sarcastic eyebrow towards her in response. He still felt weak, overwhelmingly tired and his head refused to give up on the dull ache at the base of his skull. His expression probably added all of that in and the nurse smiled ruefully in understanding.

"You have a room-mate. Did you realize that?" she quietly asked. Steve blinked in surprise not understanding what she meant until she glanced towards the opposite side of the bed. He followed her gaze and was stunned to see Danny still there.

"What the hell?" Steve muttered. Steve had been positive that Lou had taken him home by that point.

"Oh they tried. He wouldn't leave though," she explained referring to his team, her expression purely sympathetic as Steve looked up at her quizzically. "I think you're stuck with him for the duration, Commander."

Steve could only nod in response as he stared in astonishment at his partner who was sitting next to the bed, sound asleep. He was in an impossible position. Canted forward on an uncomfortable side chair, Danny was propped up against Steve's hospital bed, head pillowed on his forearm. Steve reached out to gently cup the side of that tousled blond head when Danny murmured something unintelligibly, his brow briefly rippling in distress. Steve never noticed the nurse leave as he let his thumb draw idle, abstract circles over Danny's temple while the rest of his fingers gently wended through his hair.

His partner's face was pale again, wracked with fatigue. Tiny lines around his eyes were enough for Steve to know he was uncomfortable, maybe even housing a headache or in the throes of an unhappy dream. Worry spiking as Danny murmured an unhappy noise again, Steve wondered what memory or memories these last few events might have triggered within his reluctant brain. He could only hope that they weren't all bad ones; however, he knew that likely hadn't been the case. And now Steve had his own army of demons to contend with, because even though he could never have imagined the likes of Kenny Ingraham, it was impossible not to blame himself for what had happened from the very beginning.

Sadly now, Steve studied Danny's face, the outline of his jaw. He hadn't shaved and his clothes were rumpled. Steve didn't doubt that he'd barely eaten; he certainly hadn't slept at all. Even in sleep, he looked fragile. In fact, Danny should be at home, in bed. _Resting_ because he _was_ still fragile ... still recovering from the initial attack. Danny should have allowed Lou to take him home. He needed to be cared for as much as he was now caring for Steve. But to be truthful and even if it was entirely selfish, Steve wanted Danny to stay right where he was just as much as his partner had already laid claim.

"Stubborn, stubborn bastard," Steve rasped out tiredly as his lids fluttered warningly and he fought off that persistent urge to fall back asleep. He sighed softly at their predicament, still worried. Then wound up frowning when he saw the bruises along the ridgeline of Danny's knuckles. He reached down to lightly caress the damaged skin which was reddened and already beginning to turn color.

He chuffed a quiet approving sound as his lips curved into a proud, maybe even an indulgent grin. Steve didn't have to guess what had happened there.

_Maybe not so fragile after all._

Slowly, he reached out again to cup the side of Danny's head, his thumb naturally falling to that particular spot over Danny's temple where he began to repeat that same unhurried rotation. _No_ , Danny might be hurting and confused, but he most certainly was not fragile.

"Done good, babe. Done good," Steve whispered hoarsely, finally allowing his eyes to flutter and then close. Completely content with the fact that Danny had insisted on staying with him. Utterly at peace with their connection, Steve was still smiling as his hand quieted and his thumb slowly ceased moving.

_**~ to be continued ~** _


	21. Chapter 21

 

**H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O**

 

Steve watched Danny through the kitchen window for as long as he could stand it before slapping the kitchen towel down on the counter and making up his mind to just confront whatever the hell it was bothering his partner. He thought he knew actually or at least he could imagine what it might be. Maybe. Something was different in the way Danny was retreating into some lonely, quiet place. Steve scowled as he corrected himself on the heels of that musing, because _no_ , that was wrong. He didn't really know and that fact was what was eating at _him_.

Sure what had happened to each of them was a big deal. It was a huge deal, but Steve was fine and Danny was healing; he would continue to heal and eventually get back to work. They were both safe ... together ... _happy_. Steve could not, for the life of him, figure out what the hell was happening now because the moment he'd been released from the hospital, Danny had clammed up. His partner had begun a type of retreat and Steve was annoyed ... _No_ , he was  _confused_ because things should have been fine. Better than fine! Barring the amnesia, they were damned good together and Steve still maintained that Danny would regain all his memories. All he needed was patience and time.

They'd also gotten their guy; a sick sick individual with a dangerous skills set and quite literally clipped his wings. They'd proved Ingraham had stolen Miles Abernathy's identify, pilot's credentials, and submitted falsified flight plans. Kono had confirmed and then located the small aircraft used ... forensics had done the rest to prove intent to murder their Five-0 detective. It hadn't been too difficult to find evidence of Danny's DNA because traces of his blood were dried on the seats, the floor and even smeared in an ugly abstract pattern across the inner compartment door. Never mind what he'd done to Steve. Kidnapping, drugs ... a myriad of things which alone were damning.

Even as Ingraham's lawyers ponied up to predictably position the man's insanity as their defense, the mountain of evidence was insurmountable and the court wouldn't lack much else to incarcerate the man for life. There was zero doubt that he was a danger to himself and to others. Topping everything off, Kono had found the guy's psychiatrist. A damned good doctor with a horrifying amount of handy information provided once the court order had been served to nullify a good portion of that doctor-patient confidentiality.

Kenny Ingraham - and his intimidating _friend,_ RJ - would not only get some desperately needed help, but be locked away safe and sound until the end of time. Steve only felt a modicum of empathy towards the man. At least towards the insecure and panicked version of Kenny. He knew though that Danny felt none at all towards either persona and he certainly couldn't blame him for that. 

"Hey," Steve called out as he walked briskly across the yard to where Danny was now standing. "Danno?" He frowned when he didn't get an answer. In fact, Danny didn't even acknowledge him. His posture, demeanor, and practically everything about him was a mirror image of what Steve had experienced back on the Big Island. With a start, Steve realized that Danny looked uneasy ... maybe even apprehensive. 

"OK. Out with it. What's the matter?" Steve prodded right away when he reached Danny side on their narrow strip of beach. He bumped into his shoulder, arguing his temper and attempting a lightness he didn't feel at all when he caught sight of his partner's face. He'd seen that look before when Danny'd lost ... his _brother_. Startled, Steve felt all of the annoyance which had flared back in the kitchen bleed completely out of him. Something was significantly wrong.

"You've been standing out here and just staring at the ocean for twenty-two minutes and oh, about five seconds," Steve tried again, faking a look at his watch and striving for levity. Falling flat when Danny still didn't move a single muscle. Failing miserably when his own mood began to swing like pendulum to the far side of very concerned. 

"Hey?" He leaned forward, trying to get Danny to look at him and only succeeded in winning a half-hearted glance before Danny refocused on the ripples in the shallows. Steve briefly hesitated before reaching out to pull Danny close. He wasn't entirely sure what to do, but he must have done the right thing when Danny came easily enough. Nonetheless, Steve tried not to focus on how tense Danny felt as he tucked him into his side and ran his hand soothing over his partner's arm.

"Did I do something wrong, Danno?" Steve found himself asking, unconvinced when Danny only shook his head to the contrary. "Then what is it? It's more than the amnesia, isn't it? I feel like I did something ... and maybe I did ... maybe it's because this guy wanted me and he got to you. He got to you and ... and I almost lost you."

He was at a loss when Danny didn't answer right away. He searched for something else to say as his partner stared blindly into the ocean only winding up sighing Danny's name, kissing the top of his head. Pushing gently as he tried to figure out just what the hell was happening now. 

"Danno. What can I do?" Steve asked helplessly. "You have to help me out here, babe."

"Can we go away?" Danny abruptly asked. He turned to face Steve, shrugging out of the one-sided hug, still unsmiling and just as on edge as he'd been for days now. His eyes were dark, far away and his expression unexpectedly vulnerable. "Just ... anywhere. _Today_. I need ... I need to get out of here."

"Yeah, sure." Steve found himself nodding automatically even though it was the last thing he'd ever expected Danny to ask for. "Of course." He replied quickly, his own mood unexpectedly lifting at the suggestion.

"We don't have to," Danny suddenly recanted. He seemed to try to gather himself together but his woeful attempt at a smile, was just that. _Sad_. Lost. "You've got work ... "

"No no! C'mere," Steve said, relieved when Danny willingly tucked himself back into the circle of his arms wending his hands behind Steve's back. "It's okay ... and you know what? I should've suggested it first," Steve murmured softly as he pressed a kiss to the top of Danny's head. "Getting away is a great idea, babe."

He cupped the sides of Danny's face then, tenderly asking for more. Contented when Danny gave in, his eyes closing as Steve gently kissed his lids, his nose, cautiously nipping his way to Danny's lips. Asking, but never pushing. Never taking. Only trying to show his want of making things better ... somehow. Over-joyed when Danny parted his lips, rising on his toes to kiss him in return with the softest of sighs.

He might not yet really know what was wrong, but Steve knew what Danny _needed_ and he knew that he could do this right. And now that Danny had asked, a trip made all the sense in the world. There was absolutely no reason to not go. "Yeah. Let's do it ... I know just the place," he whispered when Danny ever so subtly relaxed into his chest, his arms once more snug around Steve's waist.

Less than two hours later, Steve had managed to pull off a truly special find. He'd chartered a private plane to Lana'i, attentive to every detail of the last minute trip. The island was an oasis of calm which could afford them with the ultimate in terms of privacy. And by early evening just as the sun was beginning to set, they were investigating the pleasant nooks and crannies of a comfortable Bed and Breakfast suite in a large, renovated plantation home under the shade of Cook Island pines. Their suite was beautiful, large and airy. It was well-equipped and very, very private with its own elevated verandah. But more astoundingly, there wasn't a beach in sight. Not a wave to be heard. Nothing to see but verdant jungle greens and a bounty of richly colored flowering plants.

Danny was silent as he stood on their private verandah surrounded by the lush tropical garden. The view was serene. Peaceful. Unexpected even. With the sun beginning to set behind the distant mountains, Danny looked like he was glowing in the muted rich blend of reds, oranges and yellows.

"So? Is this what you had in mind?" Steve murmured softly as he stared at the glints of color reflecting off the bright blond of his partner's hair. "What do you think? _Huh_?" Danny looked younger in the light, his complexion less sallow. To Steve's eyes, already much less strained, and his heart swelled when Danny turned, reaching out to him. His smile was small, hardly quite reaching his eyes, but it was a smile nonetheless.

"I don't know what I had in mind," Danny said quietly. He rested his forehead against Steve's chest, his voice muffled, the tone fraught with exhaustion as his guard came tumbling down chink by chink. "But this ... this is good. Better than good. Thank you."

"I think I should be the one thanking you," Steve murmured under his breath as he traced a series of soothing circles across Danny's back and stared out across the expanse. There was nothing to see for miles but the deep greens and blacks of a thick, jurassic jungle. Nothing to hear but the final shouts of day-time birds giving way to a blanket of night-time insects. Maybe the occasional hum of a distant voice here and there if he listened hard enough. Drawing in that peace, Steve closed his own eyes while he breathed in a lungful of sweet smelling air, the floral scents already doing wonders for his own mental state. He was astonished when he realized just how tired he was, too. He should have thought of suggesting this very thing, days ago.

Unconsciously, Steve rocked Danny in his arms in the fading light, their silhouette now backlit by a deepening display of stunningly deep pinks and reds. Eyes closed, Steve smiled to himself as he rested his cheek against the top of Danny's head, the two of them entirely content in each other's company. This respite was precisely what they both needed and they'd want for nothing over the next week except for each other.

_**~ to be continued ~** _


	22. Chapter 22

**H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O**

 

Propped up on his elbow, Danny lightly traced the scar on Steve's abdomen with his fingertips.  He could just make it out in the moonlight glistening through the foliage over the verandah.  He didn't need to see it because it mirrored his own. He already knew the scars by heart. And the story that went along with it. The emergency surgery - his unwavering decision to save Steve's life by sharing an organ - was one of the first things Steve had discussed with him. And how could he not have even if Danny didn't quite remember it yet? The question would have been too damned obvious to leave hanging.

_Trust. Loyalty. Love._

His eyes settled back up to Steve's face, unlined in a deep sleep as he considered each word. Danny knew those things, too. He'd sensed their trust when Steve had come for him which had proven Steve's loyalty ... and love. Danny's trust had also been a common thread throughout even if he'd only managed to recognize a glimmer of something else between them in the hotel room back on the Big Island. But when he'd leaned into Steve so exhausted; so very lost and confused but feeling something important? Sensing the power of some sort of bond? What else could that have been but love?

Danny was afraid though. He was afraid by what he was remembering in flashes of light and sometimes sound. The worst being what he'd seen the instant he'd opened the door to Kenny Ingraham's bedroom and he'd thought Steve was dead. That sight had just about sent him crashing to his knees. It had brought with it a flood of things which he didn't understand - and frankly, wasn't sure he wanted to understand.

So while he wasn't lost anymore, he certainly was adrift. Trying to balance himself from one moment to the next and not doing it well at all. Wondering what might happen and when ... afraid and not sure of the _why_ behind these vague things. Resentful of how everyone around him seemed fine with him and the situation, when he was not accepting of it at all. He was beginning to hate having little bits come back to him like some sort of an echo.

And he wasn't accepting because of those flashes he'd seen the moment he'd opened the door to that damned bedroom and thought Steve was dead. Powerful, strong memories that had just about swept him clear off his feet. He'd been so literally staggered by them, Lou had had to hold him up.

Danny closed his eyes, cringing inside as he ducked his head down to Steve's shoulder, his fingers stopping their soft outlining of raised skin. He couldn't get over the terrible images rattling around inside his head. He couldn't get over how these most recent flashes of terror compared to what he'd seen when he opened the door to that bedroom. So much so, they were now blurring together and he was beginning to fail at discerning one nightmare from the other even if the bleakness of their backdrop was entirely different.

Trade a wet concrete floor for a bed. Chains exchanged for softer canvas restraints. Tools of torture for a veritable pharmacy of dangerous drugs.

Still _Steve_ though. This strong, dark-haired man sharing his bed ... _his life_... as the focal point in both. Looking every bit as dead, as dead could be. Danny knew that he'd been virtually helpless in finding Steve now and he was sure that he'd been just as useless back then. If that had really even happened. But he had no reason to doubt the truth of the common theme. The connection was there and valid enough because his gut instincts were far too strong. The fear inside was all too real.

Danny couldn't shake it and it was taking over all of his waking thoughts. He'd seen all of that before though. That same scene. _Steve_. Motionless. Lying flat out on his back. Looking every bit as _dead_ as he did in that bed. Those thoughts and feelings had taken up residence inside his head since finding Steve and getting him to the hospital. Danny remembered those images clear as day even if he couldn't quite get to the why of them. And the thing was, if he asked, Steve would tell him. But he was afraid of that, too. Asking. Learning the truth. Knowing for sure that this echo was truly real. So, round and round he went. Making himself sick. Refusing to talk.

Danny gently began to retrace the scar again, his fingertips just ghosting over its length. He tried to focus on the fact that he'd at least been there. Wherever _there_ has been. He'd been there just as he'd been there to save Steve's life for this. The irrefutable proof lay under his fingertips in more ways than one. Loyalty... love. What he remembered did prove out the good things which they shared together. Seeing again that Steve would do just about anything for him, too. Danny smiled to himself because this break they'd taken? Steve had jumped at it and then done his damnedest to make it different. He'd picked the antithesis of the beach just for Danny's sake. Brought them to a place where neither of them had ever been so that new memories could be forged. Together. Alone.

Danny loved him for it. But Danny was afraid too. Regardless and maybe because of both reasons, Danny needed to tell him what was wrong. He needed to do something. Maybe in the morning; maybe tomorrow. But he paused again in his thoughts as Steve tensed and then stirred, rousing slightly.

"Sorry," Danny whispered softly. "Go back to sleep."

"N'sleeping?" Steve murmured sleepily as he intercepted Danny's fingers, his eyes hardly opening at all. He shifted under Danny's hand, sighing tiredly, his brow furrowed. "S'okay? Dreams?"

"No," Danny whispered, intrigued by Steve's slow waking. After only two days on RR, the ex-SEAL was insanely relaxed as he scooped up Danny's fingers to kiss them with sleep-dry lips.

"Thinking again," Steve gently chastised him, his meaning clear and Danny nodded after a short pause, knowing that he'd quickly lost any hint of a smile. "You ready to talk now?"

"No," Danny started to say, but then sighed in defeat. "Maybe ... yes."  He needed to talk and why not now? So, he took a deep breath and then began to speak, his voice low, his eyes glued to their laced fingers. Well aware that he was starting at a terrible moment in time. The one which had first overwhelmed him at Ingraham's house, but not sure how to avoid it.

"There was a room. I saw you in it. Like a warehouse ... concrete ... cold. Barren. But you'd been ... tortured. There was another man ... I'm not sure. You were both just laying there. But you looked dead ... you had been beaten. You had these ... sores or burns all over your chest and arms. It was bad. So, so bad."

Their eyes met just as he finished this first part and dammit if Steve wasn't wide awake now. With that one look, Danny knew the echo was valid and frighteningly so. Steve's expression could only be described as incredulous and then horrified.

"That was a long, long time ago, Danno," Steve murmured worriedly. "What brought this on?"

"You looked dead," Danny continued quietly, unable to shake the feelings or lose the pictures inside his head. He shuddered, his emotions unexpectedly raw. Embarrassed and self-conscious as Steve reached up to cup the side of his face to thumb away a tear before it had a chance to fall. His next words came out just as softly but in a rush of sound, tumbling one over the other. "It happened ... I remembered it when I saw you at Ingraham's ... that's when it came back because you looked the same way. And that hit me hard. I was sure it happened ... _before_ ...and I can't remember all of it. But _fuck_ , Steve! I'm beginning to think that you need to have a fucking warning label glued to your forehead because ... I'm wondering if I _want_ to remember anything at all."

" _Shhh_ ," Steve was sitting up against the headboard now and pulling Danny along with him. "You've been sitting on this for days? Letting it eat at you? Why the hell didn't you say something? That was a long time ago, Danny," he said, trying to reassure him. "A long, long time ago ... we put that behind us. And Wo Fat ... he's gone. He's dead."

"Did we really put that behind us?" Danny asked, tears now in his eyes and making his voice raspy and hoarse. He felt a frightening chill run down his spine at the name. _Wo Fat. Yes,_ he remembered that name now and nothing good had come of it. He shook his head, his voice quivering as he began to argue Steve's far too simple explanation.

"Did _we_? Because I don't remember that and to me ... it just happened all over again. You died or almost did ... and I can't shake it. I can't get it out of my head."

"Yeah, we did," Steve stated adamantly, his eyes flashing almost angrily. "We sure as hell put that part behind us. But let me tell you something else about that time." He shifted suddenly, quickly and efficiently to deposit Danny neatly onto his back where he had just been laying. He loomed darkly over Danny's face, his expression now hard to see in the dim light.

"Better yet ... let me show you what happened ... _after_." His voice was silky smooth, his tone mischievous.

Danny gasped, his eyes widening in surprise, his toes curling as Steve reached down under the sheets without preamble, the heat of his hand overwhelming through the thin material of Danny's sleep pants. He pressed into Danny's crotch with the palm of his hand, gently kneading, his mouth just inches from Danny's yet refusing to commit to a single kiss. Instead, he stared into Danny's face, drinking in his reactions.

" _After_ ," Steve whispered as he increased the pressure to a near painful point.

"S-steve ... n-not now ...," Danny gasped again as his partner rolled the heel of his hand harder, the material adding a delightful rasp of friction, his cock as far from confused as could be as it began to thicken in earnest. His mind and body berating him for so stupidly thinking he could refuse as he tilted his hips upwards looking for more.

"Now's the perfect time," Steve breathed into his mouth, his teeth gleaming white as he teased at Danny's bottom lip. "You trusted me back then and you trust me now. So, Danno ... I want you to remember what happened ... _after_. I want you to remember only that ever again."

Danny rolled his hips in a vain attempt to sneak out from under Steve's persistent hand even another part of him certainly had other ideas. He thought they were going to talk. Just how the hell had this happened?  Steve merely grinned at his weakening attempts, nipping again at his lips, worrying and teasing them until they were bruised and puffy. Then he was sinking his tongue into Danny's mouth, their breath co-mingling as Steve aggressively took charge and Danny groaned again, breathless, his tone wanton with desire.

"Steve ...not t-talking?" Danny pleaded as Steve continued to tease him relentlessly. Steve's hands were suddenly everywhere and overwhelmed, Danny was only clinging to those strong shoulders. Hanging on as Steve tugged off what remained of their clothes. His mouth, tongue and teeth simultaneously leaving a heated path across his collarbone, his nipples, and down even further, to the sensitive skin between his thighs.

"Oh .... _sh-shit,"_ Danny gasped out loud as he closed his eyes and wave after wave of electricity overwhelmed his nerve endings, seeing stars as Steve tasted him, deep throating him through obscenely wet sounds, only to salaciously lick a wide stripe of saliva up the length of his cock. His fingers dug like claws into Steve's shoulders when his partner left him wanting, rutting lewdly into the air, only to find another particularly sensitive spot on his belly, nearest their twinned scars. But then it all ceased and Steve's weight shifted. Stunned and desperate to catch his breath, Danny blinked his eyes open wide in confusion, still seeing sparkling pinpricks of light and barely able to focus on Steve's face.

Panting heavily, all thoughts of talking gone, Danny wanted more. Danny _needed_ more and yet Steve covered him with the sheer breadth of his own body, their hard cocks, slick as they lay side by side. Ignored and left painfully wanting.

"S-Steve," Danny moaned as he tried to find some release, his heels slipping uselessly on the sheets. Pillowed on his own elbows on either side of Danny's head, Steve only leered down at him, rocking his hips. Grinding and rutting into him with a devilish purpose.

"I want you to remember this ... and _only_ this," Steve murmured wickedly. His face was flushed, his skin slick with sweat and he was trembling with his own desperate need for release. Regardless, Steve went back to worrying at Danny's lip at a far too leisurely pace, pausing to suck a hot, wet circle into the delicate skin of his neck. Teasing them both with an occasional rocking of his hips.

"Do you know what you said that night? Our _first_ night ... when we finally got our heads out of our mutual  _asses_ and realized that we were meant to be together?"

"N-nno. What?" Danny croaked as he squirmed under Steve's weight, gasping as Steve rutted heavily into him in order to keep him in place, his look wolfish and doing nothing except turning Danny on even more.

" _G-GG-od,_ Steven ... _fuck_ ," he whined as Steve latched onto a nipple, sucking and nipping with careless abandon. Ruthless as he dominated Danny's senses and used his own body against him.

"Frisky," Steve whispered into his mouth, pausing to nuzzle his nose into Danny's before then showering his eyes and lips with feathery kisses. "Remember that ... remember what happened _after_ ... I want you to remember _us_."

"The word you used on our first night was _frisky_ ," Steve taunted again as he gently sunk his teeth into Danny's lip while he snaked his hand down between them to grasp their cocks together pulling and tugging. Leaving Danny dizzy with desire and desperate for release. Stroking hard and silently cuing Danny to join him, their hands fumbling together as they brought themselves to a stunning climax.

Wrecked as one, they kissed gently through aftershocks and then on into a blissful daze. "Steve," Danny whispered as he hummed another kiss against Steve's lips, then along his jaw. "Frisky ... _huh_?" He chuffed a quiet laugh when Steve whispered the word into his ear, sucking his lobe between his teeth, sending yet another spark down to his very toes.  

"After," Steve murmured next, his tone both teasing and severe and Danny could only agree as he closed his eyes, his head pillowed against Steve's chest.  He was finally at peace as his hands skimmed lightly over Steve's sex-dampened skin.

 _After_ ... if this was _after_ ... it was a memory worth learning about and keeping. Forever. 

"You trust me. You love me," Steve preened proudly as he rested his forehead against Danny's. "You came back when it mattered the most," he whispered as he doted on Danny, pressing a now chaste kiss to the tip of his nose.

"You love, me Danno ... and I love you." He smiled indulgently down into Danny's face, his eyes shining darkly liquid in the light. Steve's voice was impossibly soft and Danny found himself drifting happily inside the meaning of his words.

"And ... you're going to marry me."

_**~ The End. (for now) ~** _


	23. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I do not own Hawaii Five-0 or any characters. No copyright infringement intended.
> 
> Some wonderful readers wished for recovery ---- and the muse did too. We all get an unexpected Epilogue.

 

**H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O**

 

It was the car which finally pulled that last and final trigger. The new Camaro to be precise. Off the lot and ready to go, Danny insisted that he be the one to pick it up. _Alone_. Which had made Steve give pause at first, his face a worried storm of mixed emotions. However, Danny prevailed in the end since there was no good reason to deny him that right. He was fit enough to drive. Cleared to drive in fact, if not quite yet approved to work. So, Steve relented just enough that afternoon, making it known that he was allowing his partner the time and space he seemed to need. To Danny's distinct benefit, he'd managed to merely roll his eyes at the over protectiveness of his partner.

So it was the car itself that became the cure or at least the vehicle to the cure, a pun which Danny would laugh about later. Right then though, it wasn't at all in the way Danny might have expected. It happened slow and easy, sneaking in over a matter of miles and an afternoon of just wandering about. Getting used to the solid feel of the steering wheel, the vibration of its engine, and all its new bells and whistles. Of breathing in that new car smell, stopping by the occasional overlook to stare across the blue expanse of empty ocean. Of allowing his hands and gut instincts their druthers at piloting him through the streets of downtown Honolulu.

Or maybe that part was more the car's idea. But no, that hardly made sense. New or not, they did fit there together and the new Camaro seemed to want to take him places. Explore its newly discovered freedom just as much as he wanted to test himself. But he hadn't really expected anything to actually happen. All of it snuck in so gently that Danny didn't even realize anything might be going on inside his own head.

At a traffic light at a very busy intersection, he felt a tug, an urge to make a left hand turn, smiling when he followed through on it and immediately saw the blocky white and pink sign to the bakery. _Bakery_. A flicker of morning coffee runs ... donuts. _Donuts_? No not...? Danny nodded to himself as a word popped into his head ... _malasadas_. _Familiar_. Friendly people. Coffee... and his stomach growled. He parked without thinking and was through the glass doors a moment later, beaming happily now and inhaling deeply. Aromas of chocolate, cinnamon, sugar and brewed coffee mingled together and hit him full on, teasing his nose and making his mouth practically water. Familiar, _yes_. Absolutely familiar, but that was where things seemed to scratch to an unsteady halt.

He stared at the display cases and the various pastries, wanting them all, wondering what he should try ... what he _had_ tried. What the hell did he even like?

"Geez, there's enough to choose from," he mumbled under his breath as he investigated the first few shelves of malasadas, cream puffs, cream horns, and a variety of other small cakes.

"Hey! Detective Williams!" The pretty blonde girl behind the counter said with a welcoming smile. "I haven't seen you in _ages_! I guess you've been busy at work. Back for your usual?"

 _His usual._ Okay then, he had been here before and often enough, too. Danny grinned as he straightened up to acknowledge the girl who had just so easily solved the first of his questions. With a quick glance he read her name tag. Kris. Probably short for Kristine. It was all so normal and so, so familiar and he practically kicked himself in his own befuddled head for not remembering her face. For needing to read a name tag.

"Kris. _Kris_ , yeah it's been busy," Danny replied slowly while studying her face closely and willing himself to know her more. "I'll take the usual."

He paused thoughtfully as he watched her grab two chocolate malasadas and a tall coffee cup, then backpedaled spontaneously, switching gears from berating himself to thinking about ... _Steve_. Why just two of those donuts ... no, _not_ donuts! Malasadas ... why just two when he had weeks of catching up to do? Hardly seemed right, did it? And sharing was a big deal just then with Charlie ... there was much to be said about _sharing_ in general and this new-old find would be fun to share... with Steve.

One of Danny's eyebrows tilted upwards as he smiled and made a quick decision. "My usual ... and a box. Make it a dozen to go, okay?" Danny called over the counter to Kris. "Mix it up ... whatever you think I'd like."

"You like 'em all _haole_ ," a new voice chimed in behind him. "Any kine but for Auntie's pineapple, _brah_. But I'm working to fix that up on you, island style."

Low and melodic, the laughter was there within that rich tone and Danny closed his eyes at the same time a dizzying, nearly out of body experience washed over him. He put his hand out against the counter to steady himself, eyes still closed until he re-centered himself and a name came to him. Kanoa.

He knew what she would look like before he even turned around. Kanoa Abaricia.

 _'Kanoa was ... is ... the happy, heavy-set Hawaiian woman who owns this bakery,'_ Danny thought to himself. Voice like silk. Her name just as breathtakingly beautiful, the woman was a miracle in the kitchen and ... not someone to be reckoned with outside of it for she rivaled Kamekona's breadth of size. Eyes still screwed tightly closed, another image popped into his mind and he nearly laughed out loud knowing it had really happened, if not precisely the when.

_Kanoa Abaricia wielding an old-fashioned wooden rolling pin like a baseball bat, her face suffused with anger, flour on her chin. Swinging the rolling pin at the man who'd just tried to rob her blind. It was how they'd first met ... one bloodied and battered wannabe thief, an irate Hawaiian woman smelling of cinnamon and chocolate ... and Danny. The misplaced New Jerseyean transplant who'd had the gall to ask for a donut after handing their perp off to an HPD unit._

He cringed now as he remembered the rolling pin being brandished in his direction.

 _"What you call my malasada?!_ " Danny's had seen his very life flashing before his eyes. But Kanoa had started to laugh then, her entire expression changing when she saw his _tie_.

God help me, Danny thought now as he recalled the teasing sparkle in her eyes, her voice. The tone a breathy antithesis not only to her stature, but to the fight which she'd already evidently forgotten about. Ready to defend himself from more endless mainlander jibes. Yet it hadn't been the case. Not quite.

_"Where you from, haole?" She'd jested not unfriendly as she'd folded her arms across her wide chest, the rolling pin looking like a stupid toothpick by that point. "Donut? You best get your police officer ass in this shop, bruddah and let Auntie show you what a donut, ain't!"_

He had ... and Danny had practically fallen in love with Kanoa Abaricia on that very day. He sure as hell remembered falling in love with her small bakery.

"You like 'em all," Kanoa repeated, now right behind him with that very same soothing perfume of chocolate and cinnamon permeating the very air around her. Danny turned, squinting up at her as the last vestiges of dizziness left him. He must have looked pale though for the queer look Kanoa gave him.

"Why don't you sit down, _eh_?" The large woman prodded him into one of the small cafe chairs. "Tell me why I haven't seen your haole self in here for weeks now?"

Danny sat with Kanoa managing to just squeeze herself onto a similar chair. He opened his mouth to say something and wound up merely smiling at her. A sickly grin based on the seriousness of the look she continued to level at him. He saw the real question in her eyes, but so many things were happening inside that he couldn't help himself. Maybe he should ask her to call Steve. Call someone ... his doctor instead? But he felt fine. Okay ... not sick. It wasn't as if he might pass out or go stark raving mad in the next few minutes, right?

Right.

Despite the fact that all of a sudden he could remember what he'd done before the accident. _Shit_. It was as if his brain had discovered some switch and everything was flooded with light. He saw it all. Whatever he wanted with such clarity, that Danny felt the tremor roll through his shoulders. He could remember the accident. All of it with a sudden vividness that took his breath away.

 _Grace's phone call and that teenage temper. The flash of disappointment on Charlie's face when Danny had tried to explain how he needed to get his sister. Then, Kenny Ingraham's face that split second before_ ... and Danny wavered in the chair. Once more dizzy and momentarily feeling as if he'd left his own body.

"Son of a bitch," he murmured under his breath as beads of sweat broke out on his forehead, collected on his neck. He gripped the edge of the table with both hands, holding on for an invisible ride.

"You okay Danny?" Kanoa asked, her voice now low and careful. "You don' look so good now, _bruddah_. You sick?" Her expression was kind and she'd covered his hand with her own not realizing he was trembling until that very moment.

"No, no I'm fine." He nodded and tried to smile. "Yeah," Danny said as he managed to make his mouth work. "Fine ... really good."

"You sure now?" Kanoa pressed, uncertain as his hand continued to jump under her own on the table. "I can make a call for you ... "

"No," Danny cut off Kanoa's offer quickly. No, he didn't need to raise any alarms or have Steve running over to him at the drop of a hat. He was fine. Good. What he was remembering was frightening, but the fact that the _was_ remembering anything at all was pretty darn good. Scary and unexpected as all hell, but good.

"Thanks, I'm fine," Danny repeated. "I just need a minute or two." Which was no lie at all as he managed to smile his thanks to Kris when she came round the counter to drop off his coffee, two malasadas in a bag, and the extra box of twelve.

Steve's birthday. Charlie's ... _damn_ he remembered that now too. The debacle with Rachel and Stan. Her phone call to _him_ and then her hour's worth of labor in all it's ridiculous glory. Grace's birthday. The divorce. Mattie ... _Mattie_. S _hit_.

"Shit," he whispered brokenly to himself. His head was reeling and he took a sip of the coffee, willing his hands to be still. Doing his best to ignore Kanoa's measuring stare because he realized that she knew much more than she was letting on. Probably thanks to that damned coconut wire. Kamekona was probably some distant cousin in the very least.

"You sit there as long as you need to," Kanoa leaned forward to catch his eye, but her fingers were strong and tight around his hand. "You jus' sit there as long as you _want_ and let Auntie know if you need anything ... anything at all."

Damned if she did know _everything_ which had happened to him as their eyes met over the slim line of his to-go coffee cup and Danny nodded in mutual understanding. Kanoa knew but wouldn't press. She knew, but he was safe there inside that bakery shop for as long as he needed to be. If he'd expected her climb herself to her feet right then and there though, he'd be wrong.

"What?" Danny asked as calmly as he could because Kanoa had this look in her eye. She still had a firm hold on his one wrist, too, and Danny shrugged through an uncomfortable attempt at a soft laugh. "What? Hey, I'm fine ... really."

"Mebbe," Kanoa agreed, her head tilted subtly to the right. "It's all in there you know, but if I was you ... I'd stop trying so damned hard and jus find the good stuff. That bad stuff? It's gone. Let it go and leave it to the dust. That's where it belongs and that's all I've got to say 'bout it. But the good stuff? Now that's worth remembering!"

"Like your malasadas?" Danny said after a long thoughtful pause. It was a small joke and almost said in sarcasm, but maybe not so bad when Kanoa grinned wide, her eyes sparkling with humor.

"You _my_ haole!" Kanoa laughed loudly, turning heads, as she struggled to her feet. She poked the plate with his two untouched malasadas closer to his hand. " _Jus_ like my malasadas!"

Danny grinned back and nodded, feeling lighter as he let other stray thoughts wash over and away. Kanoa was right because what could he do about them anyway? Instead, he leaned back in his chair and let his gaze go to the window where he focused on the brightness of the summer day and how he'd felt when Steve had first touched him inside the diner. Much like Kanoa had grabbed his wrist now but with a distinct difference. Steve's fingers were long and warm, whereas Kanoa's were gentle, but her fingers short and her nails, sharp.

She certainly was no where near as desperate as Steve had been back then either. But where Danny had already begun to forget about Kanoa's firm grip as she went back to her kitchen, the sensation of Steve's warmth stayed with him. It stayed with him ... always. Without any difficulty at all, Danny could easily recall how Steve had looked in the rental car. As alone as Danny had felt at the time. Wracked with sadness and fear. Then how Steve had looked when Danny had found the wherewithal to simply announce his presence.

Something inside him had remembered the good stuff. Danny grinned at that. It was entirely true, too. Plus, all of that had proved out one very key thing and it was one of the very happiest of things which Kanoa had just seen fit to school him about.

He and Steve. Being with _Steve_ ….not only felt right. It _was_ right. Ergo, what else did he really need to think about?

"Nothing," Danny sighed to himself as he took a bite of his malasada and another grin crinkled his eyes. If he had to be a haole, he was happy to be Kanoa Abaricia's haole because he was reveling in the fact that the pastry tasted as good as he ... _remembered_.

He snorted under his breath at those thoughts, realizing then that he had to tell Steve about his major breakthrough. So Danny didn't stay long at the bakery after that. He'd calmed himself down, collected his thoughts ... and his box of malasadas. He'd left humming happily and with a very particular set of plans gelling inside his now working mind.

How to tell Steve? When to tell Steve? And better yet, _where_?

As it turned out, none of those questions were all that difficult to answer. By the time Danny got home, he hadn't called Steve beyond confirming that _his_ new Camaro was perfect and that he was finally at the house after running a few short errands.

But he had worked everything out in his head down to the smallest of details. He knew how he'd let Steve know in the most devious of ways. He certainly had an astonishing treasure trove of ideas to choose from now. But Kanoa was right in that some were simply worth leaving to dust.

So Danny chose a few particular funnier - happier ones - as his method of informing his somewhat innocent partner. Danny's clues would be subtle and he wasn't sure which one or two might finally provide Steve with some sort of an idea as to what had really gone on that day. Regardless, Danny started laying his trap of sorts inside the house, leaving a trail that would end in one particularly special spot.

As he got himself ready, Danny thought now that the first hint was probably far too out there. The dry cleaning ticket dated weeks earlier and left on the kitchen table with the plastic wrapped clothing hanging from the hook at the foot of the stairs? That all might even be entirely missed if Steve was in a hurry. Not to say even noticed because Steve had left the clothing off ages ago and Danny had intended to pick it up. But that errand had never happened for some very obvious reasons. He'd remembered it that day though and picked it up on the way home after his visit with Kanoa at the bakery.

He had backup plans upon backup plans. Really, various hints layered upon each other with scarcely rhyme or reason to anyone except each other. With a devilish chuckle, he had dug up the old dress tie Grace had given him eons earlier and left it haphazardly swinging off the corner of a kitchen chair.

One, of course was the bakery, itself. Again subtle enough he supposed. His empty to-go coffee cup, the cold dregs of coffee left on the kitchen counter. A plate, rumpled pink and white napkin and a powdery layer of crumbs intentionally left behind. Danny grinned as he stared at the obvious spillage.

Steve's trained in order of neatness would be highly offended.

Outside, the grill had been left on low to heat up and what was left of the six-pack of Longboards, put on ice. Again not too obvious, but Danny had left the bakery box next to Steve's lone bottle of beer. A dozen malasadas now down to ten. And if that wasn't enough, then the handwritten notes he'd left in a few random places would certainly do the trick. As with the mess he'd left on the kitchen counter, the first note would at minimum, pique Steve's interest and he'd have to hesitate at the oddity of it.

He would stop. Ponder. Begin to wonder just what the hell was going on.

Just a few little words which would be odd indeed. Danny's absence would become more startling then and Steve might begin to worry. But not for too long. And Danny grinned happily as he grabbed just one more malasada from the box (ten were now nine) before vanishing from view, another of his best ties in hand.

The only thing which he intended to be wearing.

He'd have to bide his time and wait. But Danny wasn't too worried. That last note he'd left? That one would most certainly do the trick.

 

**H5O* H5O**

 

"Danny!" Steve called out as soon as he opened the front door. "Hey! Danno ... where are you?"

Steve kicked off his boots on the way in, barely noting the plastic wrapped dry cleaning nearest the door. He did a vague double-take as the plastic rustled like fine gossamer in an invisible breeze and moved on, quickly shedding his badge and wallet on the way. Tossing them to the kitchen table where they landed neatly next to Danny's wallet. He bent down on impulse when the orange dry cleaning ticket fluttered to the floor in the breeze he'd created, recognizing it for what it was, but not caring at all. The slip of paper wound up tossed arbitrarily back to where it had come from.

But he stopped and frowned when he saw the tie. _A tie._ His brain stammered to a stop and he blinked in confusion.

"Danny?" Steve called out again as he picked the tie up, turned it over in his hands, wondering at its perfect looped knot. "Hey? Uh ...Danno?"

There was no answer and he shook his head, baffled, as he put the tie back where it had been hanging. His eyes next falling on something even more important: the new key fob to Danny's new Camaro was _right there_ and Steve promptly scooped it up, dumping it into his pant's pocket with a huge grin.

Two steps later though he was rolling his eyes towards the ceiling in exasperation. "Seriously?" Steve complained under his breath when he spied the mess on the counter. With one sweep of his hand, the empty coffee cup was gone into the trash, followed quickly by the handful of crumbs and the napkin.. "What ... is the garbage pail too far away, Danny? Really?"

Shaking his head, Steve rocked to a halt. The house was too damned quiet. Just where the hell was his partner? "Danny! Where are you?" Steve called out again, his intent to look out the kitchen window to check the lanai when his voice died in his throat. There was a note taped to the kitchen window. A yellow sticky note with words written in heavy, black marker.

** Operation Strawberry Fields **

"What in all the _fuck_ is going on?" Steve blurted stupidly as he felt a jolt of electricity clear down to his toes. Something was wrong or maybe not, Steve just couldn't decide by that point.

"Danny?!" Half fearfully, partly intrigued, he called out for Danny again unsure of what to do next as he read the note again. Confused and possibly just a bit worried as he assumed the note he held in his hands to be some kind of clue which Danny might have remembered that day. But then what were the other things? More clues ... and he stopped there, his gaze falling back on the tie Danny had gotten from Grace. His _favorite_ tie. And a certain understanding began to dawn.

More clues. _Of course._

"Shit," Steve whispered under his breath as an odd feeling settled in the pit of his stomach. Now that - these clues - made sense. However, Steve wasn't sure how to take any of it - at least, not yet. He stopped then and looked harder around the kitchen, unsure of what to do next. Until he noticed that there was another small piece of yellow note paper taped to the sliding doors out to the lanai.

This time, Steve grinned as he read the words.

** One of us needs to apologize Steven. **

"Holy shit," Steve muttered under his breath as he re-tallied the clues left for him inside the house. "He does remember."

The dry cleaning ... the dated ticket that he'd barely paid attention to. Grace's tie. The coffee cup ... that mess which he now knew was entirely intentional which dated back to one of their very first conversations. _'What was that look? What they teach you not to spill in the Army?'_

"You absolute, total rat bastard," Steve smirked out loud as he wandered out to the lanai. "You know ... you _know_ and you didn't call me?! And now, you think I'm going to apologize to you?"

Danny also knew he'd take the car keys. All of these clues were tiny hints ... something had happened that afternoon. But the apology? Why the hell would Steve need to apologize? As far as things seemed to be going down a particular path, it was Danny who needed to do the apologizing. Not him.

 _Apologize_? Steve frowned in total confusion until the bakery box sunk in. A box left for him on the table next to a warming barbecue grill. A solo bottle of beer and a six pack of Longboards on ice.

The bakery box was yet another major clue, its name printed out in bright pink swirls across the stark white lid. But the handwritten words in black marker, once again in Danny's large print were impossible to miss.

** Kanoa Abaricia. Malasadas?  **

A jibe. Blame being laid. A finger being pointed. He read that message loud and clear. Sure Steve knew the woman's name. She was the owner of Danny's favorite bakery. But Steve knew he hadn't ... a stupid bakery was so far from his thoughts ... he hadn't ... so ...that meant ...Danny was perturbed for the omission. Something he'd evidently figured out that very day.

Something he'd remembered.

But ... Kanoa? _Malasadas_? Could it all be really so benign? Probably ... Danny's stomach often ruled the roost and Steve couldn't remember the last time either of them had gone out for coffee or to the bakery. And that would have fallen on him since in most recent times, Danny would have relied upon Steve for the prompt.

Completely intrigued, Steve poked the top of the box open. Okay, so nine were left but there was more writing on the inside of the lid.

** I still expect an apology, babe. **

"Shit!" Steve murmured softly as he began to smile. Danny _remembered_ and he was ... _happy_. But Steve was missing something important in this grand game of cat and mouse because Danny was there, but in hiding. Why leave the clues and hide? Where the hell was he ...

 _Apologize_. The word finally _finally_ sunk in and Steve's eyes fell on the garage door an instant later. On the _door_ that was left open just enough for him to see inside and catch the back wheel rim of the Marquis.

 _The Marquis._ Steve's breath caught in his throat as he recalled what Danny had said during that very early - very special - morning adventure. _"We met here. I remember bits of it ... I remember ...I don't think we ever did this here before. Did we?"_

The orangey glow of an overhead light was nearly impossible to see since the sun had hours to go before setting, yet it was there. Just as he'd missed all the clues left for him. The dry cleaning. The box of pastries. The beer ... the receipts. The tie. He'd overlooked that door entirely. The biggest clue of all.

"Apologize, _huh_ ," Steve whispered wickedly as he snagged the chilled six-pack, what was left of the malasadas, and made his way across the yard. Entirely focused on the garage ... the _Marquis_ ... and who was waiting for him inside. Focused solely on Danny and his apparent need for Steve to follow up on a certain _apology_.

_**~ End. ~** _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HUGE ENORMOUS thanks to Jlopie over on FF for keeping the sick muse in line and making sure words were in the right order. A sick muse, is a sad, complicated one and Jlopie has been nothing but kind and patient through this painful process!
> 
> As for this Epilogue? Well, I sort of had lots of fun with this story and didn't want to let it go. Others asked for an Epilogue. SO ... I found an article in Psychology Today that had one proven case of how memories were restored. I had already written parts of the below and wound up smiling because the initial draft went down these very same and evidently valid lines. From that 2014 article" "...Suddenly one day he was able to recall from one given verbal cue (a person's name he had known in his past) his entire past history ..." 
> 
> So there you have it. It could happen!
> 
> Someone else had also mentioned giving this AU a second part .... Maybe a Kenny/RJ return? hard to say... **wink wink, nudge nudge**
> 
> And I DO hope that Calacious also continues to enjoy this extension. :-)


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